


Secretly

by TonySnark (Sherlocked729)



Category: MASH (TV)
Genre: 1950s, Attempted Suicide, Bisexual Hawkeye Pierce, Explicit Language, F/M, Homophobia, Homosexuality, Korean War, M/M, Set After "George" episode, slight mention of hanging
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-26
Updated: 2018-11-08
Packaged: 2019-01-05 21:05:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 30,482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12197403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sherlocked729/pseuds/TonySnark
Summary: In a time when it wasn't the safest to be "out," it only figures that Hawkeye would feel trapped in his own feelings. What's worse is that Trapper might figure him out. Would that really be so bad, though? Yes, yes it would.





	1. Do Me A Favor

**.    .    .**

“Hawk? Hey, Hawkeye!”

The voice shook the doctor out of his half-slumber, causing him to rub his eyes. “Hmm? Mmm… how long was I out for?”

Trapper looked at his friend with tired eyes himself. Hawkeye was surprised his friend was still awake. “You’ve been out for a whole patient.”

“And I’m still hungry,” he bantered in a monotone voice. He stood up and threw his crimson stained gloves into the bin in the changing room.

“Go on back to the Swamp, Hawk. I can finish up here with Henry.”

Benjamin Franklin Pierce remained still in his place, looking around the room, dazed with fatigue. He was exhausted but he also wanted to help as many kids as possible before he could consider anything a success.

“Can’t, gotta go operate…” he put on another pair of gloves and started back into the operating room.

As he entered, he heard Trapper’s footsteps right behind him and a sound of objection come from Frank’s direction even though his vision blurred and he couldn’t actually see the so-called doctor.

“Colonel Blake! Pierce has been operating for nearly fourteen hours straight. He’s in no condition to operate!”

“I’m in perfect condition, Frank. I can’t even feel myself standing here trying to ignore you,” Pierce jested. Okay, not his best insult, but he figured everyone would cut him a break based on the amount of causalities they had been operating on.

“Go hit the sack, Pierce. I hate to say it but Frank’s right; you’re in no shape to operate,” Colonel Blake sighed tiredly.

“Can I get a ride back home in that case? Anyone?

Trapper grabbed a wheelchair in the corner and wheeled it over to where his friend stood, his body no longer straight, but beginning to curve and sink. “Hop on. I’ll give ya a ride.’

“I have always depended on the kindness of strangers…”

“How are you holding up, Trapper? Think you could come back after you drop him off?”

Trapper John McIntyre nodded. “Yeah, sure, Henry. I’ll be back.” He wheeled Hawkeye outside and put his mask down under his chin, taking a whiff of air.

“You okay, Hawk?”

It was a few moments before he answered back, as if he just realized Trapper had asked him something. “Yeah, yeah. Just dead tired.”

“I’d prefer you just to be tired without the dead part,” he replied as he stopped outside the Swamp.

“Yeah, you’re right,” Hawkeye agreed, nodding. “We have enough dead around here as it is. Oh, is this my stop so soon?” He reluctantly stood up and rubbed his eyes again. “When I wake up, I’ll take over for you.”

“Sounds like a date. Get some shut eye.”

Hawkeye took a second to try to come up with a clever remark but nothing came to him. His brain was fried, his back ached from standing for so long, his fingers felt like they were going to fall off. He just nodded instead and walked into the Swamp before nearly falling onto his cot and passing out completely.

He dreamed of good things back home. Homemade apple pies and pastries, the smell of coffee that was store bought, not Army packaged, and of the man he had kissed once and only once when he was a few years younger.

He heard faint noises in his tent after what seemed like only minutes and when he woke up, he felt he could still taste that kiss and felt a longing sensation in his chest.

“Captain Pierce? Are you awake, sir?” Radar’s voice filled the area.

Hawkeye groaned and hugged his pillow closer to him. “I am now, Radar. What’s going on?” He tried to keep the frustration out of his voice. He knew that the kid was only trying to do his job.

“Sir, Trapper just got out of Post-op and he’s on his way here. There’s more casualties due to arrive soon and you’re wanted in OR.”

Hawkeye would have normally thrown a pillow at him but if he left now, he would have a couple minutes to talk to his friend before the ambulance arrived. He rolled himself out of bed and followed Radar out where they parted ways by OR building.

He walked into the scrub room where he saw a tired looking Trapper scrubbing down and changing back into his regular army clothes.

“You look as exhausted as I feel,” Hawkeye remarked, putting on his operating bottoms.

Trapper glanced over at him and concern touched his face temporarily. “Still? Comin’ down with something?”

“Only the bad case of the sick-of-work-on’ums,” Pierce half-joked.

He saw his friend nod and chuckle. “You and I both, pal. But seriously.”

“Yeah, I’m fine, Trap. Thanks, though. I’ll feel a lot better if I can save a couple dozen lives,” he sighed, finishing up getting dressed. “Go sleep. I’ll meet you at Rosie’s Bar for a nightcap.”

Trapper, although he was as exhausted as Hawkeye had felt earlier still managed to smirk playfully.  “See you later, sailor.”

Hawkeye smirked back and laughed softly to himself as the other man left the room. It was amazing how someone like Trapper McIntyre could lift up his spirits in this Hellhole. He didn’t know what he would do if he didn’t have a friend like him here. He’d probably go AWOL, truth be told.

He entered the room and was somewhat surprised and disheartened to see Frank Burns still in there but just standing off to the side observing.

“Was I just hallucinating earlier or didn’t you say that I was in no shape to operate, Henry? I’ve been asleep and woke up again and Burns is still in here! Why wasn’t he banished like I was?”

Frank stiffened and glared at Hawkeye over his mask. “Pfft! _Some_ of us here can still do our jobs! Meanwhile, you’re back in your tent slacking off! We don’t need sleep!”

“Sounds like someone could use a nap,” Hawkeye replied as Klinger placed a body on the table in front of him and walked back out.

“Cool it, Frank,” Colonel Blake ordered passively. “Ease off, Hawkeye, he’s no longer operating. He’s just watching.”

“Good idea. Pay close attention, Frank, and you’ll get to see how real doctors operate. Maybe you’ll learn a thing or two.”

“Colonel!” Frank whined now, successfully allowing Hawkeye to imagine exactly how Burns was as a child.

Colonel Blake yawned into his mask before he shook his head.

“Enough now! Both of you, knock it off. I want silence in here and the sound of operating and the bare minimum of voices to fill this room. That’s an order!” Henry spoke with authority finally.

Hawkeye shut his mouth and got straight to work on the man who looked more like a boy, shrapnel visible in both his chest and his stomach. He took a deep breath in and focused on the task at hand, trying not to allow himself to think about what words he might write back to this man’s family if he was unsuccessful.

  **.    .    .     .    .**

Hawkeye was grateful when his shift was over, nearly seven straight hours of meatball surgery, and it was nearly 9 p.m. now.  He had grown tired of cutting into all the young men who were fighting a war that they didn’t ask to be a part of.

He quickly checked in with his other patients in Post-Op before getting changed and walking towards Rosie’s bar, following the dusty road. The fresh air felt good, even though it was warm. It made him feel less like breaking down. Each day was a battle and he could feel himself starting to come apart at the seams. If it wasn’t for Trapper, he’d get a section 8 and be sent into some institution.

As he walked inside, he wasn’t surprised to see it mostly empty. It was late and most everyone wanted to get to bed early so they could be ready and able if more surprise casualties arrived.

Everyone except for him, Trapper, and a couple other people at least.

He saw his friend almost instantly and walked over to his table. “You alone, handsome? Or can I join you?”

Trapper took a drink of his beer but was smirking into it. “Please, sit down.”

Hawkeye was going to sit down anyway but when he did, he relaxed in his chair, his back aching as it usually did after long hours in OR. “How long have you been here for?”

Trapper shrugged. “About an hour. What took you so long?”

“Sorry, had to sew up some kids who should be in school and not on the front lines,” he sighed and looked across the table. “How’re you feeling?”

“Fantastic. I was able to sleep in my bed instead of on my feet.”

“What can I get you, Captain?” Klinger asked him with a playfully smirk on his face. He must have come straight here from OR as well.

“Your driest martini that you can manage, and then double it.”

“Right away!” He left and brought it back a few moments later, placing it in front of Hawkeye. “Here you are, O Captain, my Captain.”

Hawkeye took a long drink from the glass before he realized Klinger was waiting for payment. “Put it on my tab.”

“I always do, but your tab is getting awfully long, sir…”

Hawkeye glanced up at him and grimaced. “Catch me next poker night.”

When Klinger was out of sight, Trapper raised his eyebrows. “Need a loan, Hawk?”

“That’s nice of you to offer but the last thing I need is a shark after me.”

Trapper shook his head and took another drink of beer, silence filling the space between them. It felt like a comfortable silence, though. It was a nice change from the clattering of operating tools and the murmuring back and forth of muffled voices.

The two men let the silence hang in the room for a while before Trapper spoke again. “Can I ask you a favor?”

Hawkeye straightened up in his chair. Trapper hardly ever asked for favors and if he did, it would have to mean a lot to him. He didn’t like owing anyone anything, something Hawkeye could relate to as well.

“Of course. What is it?”

“I need you to help keep an eye on a patient of mine in Post-Op. He has a head injury and he’s been touch and go since he arrived. Worried about him,” Trapper answered somewhat nonchalantly.

Hawkeye felt like he was only partially understanding, like there was something his friend wasn’t telling him but from the way Trapper was looking at him, he knew it wasn’t because lack of trust.

“Sure. Are you thinking brain damage or something?”

Trapper shook his head. “He knows the basics, the important stuff. His name, location, age, but… err… just watch out for him, yeah?”

He squinted his eyes playfully and took another sip. “What are you keeping from me, Trap? We’ve had tons of kids come here with head injuries. Why is this one special to you?”

Trapper sighed and put his hands up in surrender, still holding his beer. “Alright, fine. Remember Private Weston? The one who got beat up by his buddies?”

Hawkeye felt his heart sink into his stomach but he nodded.

“Well, this guy is like that guy. His buddies are like those buddies. Catch my drift now?”

Hawkeye finished his drink and ran a hand through his hair. “Right, yeah. I follow you. Have… have they done anything to him yet?”

“No, but I don’t want to wait until they do,” Trapper shook his head and looked at Hawkeye pointedly. “I just want to prevent it from happening at all.”

“I get what you’re saying, Trap, but… we can’t be in Post-Op all the time,” he tried to rationalize. He wondered if Trapper knew about him. He wondered if Trapper was asking him this favor because of what Hawkeye was. It would make sense.

“I’m not sayin’ we have to be, Hawkeye. We can have Klinger keep an eye out too. He’d understand. He was cool about Private Weston too. It’s Frank we have to be worried about. If he finds out about this guy, he’ll be first in line to out him to everyone else who don’t know, like the Army…”

Hawkeye nodded, this thought also having crossed his own mind more than he cared to admit. “Where he’ll be dishonorably discharged and a black spot on his record.”

“Exactly,” Trapper agreed before he finished his beer.

“Of course I’ll help you with him. What’s his name?”

Trapper stood up, the signal that it was time to head back to camp. “Private John Wilkins.”

Hawkeye also stood up and pushed in his chair before letting McIntyre lead them out back towards The Swamp. He decided he would check in on this man in the morning before breakfast; he didn’t want a repeat of what happened to Private Weston, and he felt like helping Private Wilkins would mean he’d be helping himself on some level. Maybe he could find a loophole in the Army that could somehow help him.

He didn’t know what he was hoping to find but he was more concerned with Trapper. Did he just bring this to him because of their past experience with a homosexual soldier or did Trapper know about him, about Hawkeye? Was this supposed to be some kind of sign that he knew?

He wasn’t sure what to believe, and it made him nervous to think about Trapper outing _him_. Being bisexual was still dangerous in this day and age. It was just as "bad" as being homosexual. Either way, he was still going to help this kid.


	2. A Second Opinion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ....

Hawkeye barely got any sleep between his thoughts about Private Wilkins and Frank’s snoring so he woke up at 5 a.m., finding it futile to stay in bed any longer if he wasn’t sleeping.

He took a very quick, very cold shower and then headed into Post-Op to check on Trapper’s patient, as well as all the others he had his hands in the previous day. He did those ones first before he walked over to Private Wilkins and grabbed the clipboard off the bed to examine it.

“Doctor?”

“Sure hope so; I was performing surgery yesterday,” he glanced up and saw the man smile briefly and also cracked a smile. _God, this kid couldn’t be older than nineteen._

“I’m Doctor Pierce but most people who know me well call me Hawkeye, and if this clipboard isn’t lying, it says you’re Private Wilkins.”

The young man grimaced as he tried to sit upright. “That’s right, doc.”

Hawkeye looked at him carefully and moved over to his bedside, starting to do basic tests. “Your head hurt?”

“Only when I try to sit up. Could it be serious?”

Hawkeye finished taking his blood pressure and then grabbed his pen and examined his pupil reaction. “I’ll talk it over with Doctor McIntyre but I don’t think it’s anything to be concerned about yet. Just take it easy and lay down until you leave.”

“Leave? Am I going home?” The proper reaction would have been joy in anyone else but his voice was laced with what Hawkeye recognized as dread and hesitation.

Hawkeye searched his face as he leaned back in the chair. “You know, most people in your situation would be dancing on top of their beds with joy by now. Is there something back home you don’t want to go back to?”

John Wilkins was quiet for a long time and Hawkeye didn’t miss him glancing around nervously before simply shrugging.

The doctor cleared his throat and looked around as well before he pulled his chair a bit closer to Wilkins’ bed and leaned over to him.

“Maybe… there’s a reason you want to stay here, in Korea.” It wasn’t a question but Hawkeye made sure his he kept any judgement or criticism out of his voice. When the Private still didn’t say anything, he continued talking.

“There isn’t anything wrong with that, if that’s the reason. Plenty of people want to stay here for other people, whether it be for money, or… maybe love? Contrary to everything bad that is currently occurring around us, it does happen.”

Wilkins looked uneasy now and swallowed hard. “It shouldn’t happen, though. Not in my case.”

“Do you want to tell me what’s really eating at you?” He tried softly. “I promise I can keep a secret.”

“That’s no good when my friends already know the truth. They’ve probably told our C.O. by now. It doesn’t matter if I’m not sent home because of my injury. I’ll be discharged anyway,” the Private confessed, verifying Hawkeye and Trapper’s previous assumptions.

He wondered how to go about this; he wanted to have this man’s trust. If he told him what Trapper told him, then not only would he not have his trust, but Trapper would lose it too. He sighed softly and glanced around Post-Op to see a stray nurse on duty and the rest of the patients still sleeping.

“Your friends don’t sound like good friends if they’re not willing to keep a secret you told them.”

Wilkins shook his head. “I didn’t tell them, Doctor Pierce. They just… found out. They… caught us, me and the person I was with.”

Hawkeye felt chills throughout his body. This felt surreal. This man was the same age as him when he was caught with someone he shouldn’t have been with, and no one had taken it well. This had to be a bad dream.

_Had Trapper somehow known about Hawkeye’s experience? Is that why he had asked him to watch out for Wilkins? Was it some sort of sick joke?_

He knew that he was being dramatic and irrational, but he couldn’t wrap his head around this. He searched the man’s face carefully before he decided to act like a proper doctor again.

“That’s never fun, people finding out things. I have paperwork I have to fill out, but I’ll come back soon and check on you again,” Hawkeye promised as he stood up.

He felt Wilkins grab his arms suddenly and go wide-eyed, his eyes now laced with fear. “Y-You’re not going to tell my C.O. or anyone else about… what I told you, are you? Please, don’t.”

Hawkeye gently pried the Private off with his hands. “Hey, just relax, okay? I don’t even know who your C.O. is, and I wouldn’t even know who to tell. It’s not anyone else’s business though, anyway, right? I’m not a big tattletale.”

The other man relaxed again but still looked unsure. “O-Okay. Thanks.”

Hawkeye nodded and gave a small smile. “Just take it easy, Private. I’ll be back soon.” He ran a hand through his hair before he headed towards the mess tent.

He felt nauseous but it had also been awhile since he had last eaten anything. He decided to just stick with coffee for now, though. After grabbing a cup and a table, he was soon greeted by Trapper who sat down with a full tray.

The nagging feeling was still with Hawkeye and seeing Trapper only exacerbated it. He looked over at Trapper with suspicious eyes. When he saw Hawkeye looking at him, and smirked at him.

“Just to warn you, the last person to look at me like that ended up marrying me.”

For some reason, this comment made Hawkeye feel warm but he tried to ignore it and remembered the situation at hand. “I talked to your patient this morning, John Wilkins.”

Trapper seemed intrigued now. “Oh yeah? How’s he healing?”

“Good, as far as I can tell. He experienced some pain though when he sat up.”

“Maybe I didn’t get all the shrapnel?” Trapper questioned worriedly, glancing over at him. “I was pretty tired when I worked on him…”

“Maybe, but the nurse would have pointed it out to you if you missed anything. What nurse did you have?”

“Hot Lips…”

“She’d never miss an opportunity to point out a mistake you made. I’m thinking maybe it’s just post operation pain. They all experience it within the first twenty-four hours after surgery. Let’s keep him here for another day or two just to make sure,” Hawkeye replied, taking a sip of coffee.

“All right. So tell me what you think about his case, about what I told you yesterday.”

Hawkeye felt his stomach knot up.

“He doesn’t want to go home. Apparently, his folks don’t like the idea of him making whoopee with someone who doesn’t have a couple extra parts attached to them. Also, his friends caught him and the other guy together so it’s safe to say that Wilkins is currently living in limbo,” Hawkeye admitted.

Trapper sighed. “Great. Can’t go home, can’t stay here. What do we do, Hawk?”

Hawkeye shook his head, feeling frustrated. Let me talk to Henry. Maybe he can find a loophole somewhere.”

“I sure hope you’re right. I’d hate to see this kid get beat up or dishonorably discharged just because he fell in love with someone.”

Hawkeye nodded in agreement. “Trap – why did you have me talk to him? Why not Henry? Or Klinger?”

The question genuinely seemed to take his friend aback.

“What do you mean? I just figured since you and me were through this once before, you stood a better chance at helping him. And Henry? Are you serious? He can barely help himself most of the time. You have more pull than Klinger. You seemed like the right man for the job, that’s all,” Trapper answered, shrugging.

Hawkeye felt half relief, half disappointment. It turned out to be pure coincidence then. What were the odds of that? He knew Trapper wouldn’t lie to him, even if it would spare him his feelings.

“All right. I suppose that makes sense.”

Trapper looked skeptical now. “Something on your mind, Hawkeye?”

He bit his lip in contemplation but decided he couldn’t bring himself to tell Trapper just yet, even if he did trust him with his life. His secret was more of a risk and if things went sideways with Wilkins, he didn’t want to go down with the ship.

He glanced down at his hands and then smiled out of the corner of his mouth, that smile that said something was wrong but he didn’t want to bother anyone else with it. He shook his head, remaining quiet.

“Come on, Hawk,” Trapper encouraged, a bit more quietly now. “You look sick and it can’t be the breakfast; you’ve barely eaten any. What’s goin’ on?”

Hawkeye tongued his cheek and glanced around in thought. “Sorry, Trap. I don’t think I’m ready to tell you anything yet.”

John McIntyre leaned closer to him, a serious look in his eye. “Hey, if you know something I don’t about this kid that you ain’t telling me, then you should tell me anyway. It could be important.”

Hawkeye shook his head again and took a sip of his coffee. “No, no. It’s not about the kid. It’s just… personal. I’ll tell you, when I’m ready.”

Trapper relaxed and nodded before he playfully rolled his eyes. “Geez, you’re worse than my wife.”

“Except I have more hair on my legs,” Hawkeye chided, glad to be back to joking easily with him.

Trapper smirked and shrugged.

“Not in the winter, you don’t.”

Hawkeye smirked back but waved his hand dismissively. “Can you blame her, though? It’s cold in the winter.”

“Yeah, yeah…” There was several moments of silence as the two men reluctantly ate before Trapper cleared his throat. “So how are we supposed to help Wilkins? Any ideas?”

Hawkeye sighed, wishing they didn’t have to talk about something that weighed so heavily and was so personal to himself. He scratched his head distractedly.

“Well, last time we had this problem, we had to blackmail Burns to stop him from dishonorably discharging Wilkins. We might have to kill him this time.”

Trapper stiffened and glanced at him. “Does Frank know about him?”

“No, but it’s only a matter of time. Wilkins was pretty sure that his C.O. already knew about him. All his army buddies know. I’m sure they can’t wait to spread the news around Korea,” Hawkeye said with more venom in his voice than he had meant to.

He wished that he could take all those ignorant boys aside and just beat them all up but he wouldn’t be any better than them at that point.

If Trapper sensed any additional hostility about the situation, he didn’t let on. “That’s probably true. Maybe we can get the Private transferred to another unit somehow?”

“Can we do it without talking to his C.O.?”

“I think this is a question we need to ask Radar. He knows the ins and outs, no pun intended.”

Trapper glanced over and saw Radar making his way over to their table. “Speak of the devil. Hey, Radar,” he started as Radar sat down. “What would it take to transfer that Private Wilkins to another outfit?”

Radar took a mere second to think about it before answering.

“To another outfit, sir? Transfer form 85G, a signed copy by a Colonel, and probably even a 486 form,” the clerk rattled off. “Why do you want him transferred?”

Hawkeye shared a look with Trapper before answering. “You remember Private Weston and his whole… issue with his army friends?”

Radar nodded.

“Well, that’s like this.”

“Oh, I see. Does Colonel Blake know about this?”

“Not yet, Radar. We figured we would tell him when we see him. Do you think it’d be possible to do it without Private Wilkins’ C.O. unnecessary objections?” Hawkeye asked cautiously.

Radar looked uneasy.

“I don’t know, sirs. That could get all three of us in a lot of trouble!”

Trapper sighed. “Trouble is our middle name. Just answer the question, Radar.”

The young man obviously wasn’t liking this idea. He squirmed in his seat and adjusted his glasses but he shrugged before looking at Hawkeye. “You could do a swap and without all the personal details.”

Hawkeye felt a light of hope ignite within in. “A swap? What’s that? How would that work?”

“You fill out the paperwork and have Colonel Blake sign it. It would swap Private Wilkins’ out to another unit and that unit would bring one of their guys out here to meet up with his old unit,” Radar clarified. “You could say it’s for medical reasons. I could find a M*A*S*H station near the other unit.”

Trapper smiled now, looking at Hawkeye with a devious smile. “The old switcheroo. No one would think anything of it.”

“Everyone will be a happy little soldier… that could work,” Hawkeye looked optimistic.

This may not have been the best idea for himself, but that didn’t matter right now. He would cross that bridge when he came to it and find a different scheme if need be. This was good news for Trapper’s patient, and if it kept him out of the line of fire from close minded people, then it might even help keep this kid alive. He could start over with new people.

“I think we need to share a drink with Henry,” Trapper spoke suggestively before standing up and leading Hawkeye and Radar both out of the mess tent, walking towards Colonel Blake’s office.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So just a disclaimer - I'm making some things up as I go along because I couldn't find the information elsewhere. I'm also trying to go by 1950s criteria to remain as authentic as possible but obviously I can't do it with certain things, and for this, I apologize. I'm also writing this story a certain way to adhere to the plot so I am also probably doing this on purpose.


	3. Oh.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> .....

**.      .     .**

“You boys put me between a rock and a hard place.”

“Well if I had it my way, I’d put you between a rock and a soft place but there aren’t many soft places in the Army,” Hawkeye shrugged.

“Unless you count the nurses’ beds in the evening,” Trapper suggested unhelpfully.

Colonel Blake clenched his jaw before he poured himself a tumbler of whiskey before also pouring some in the two glasses in front of the younger men. “I’m serious now!”

“We know,” Hawkeye sighed. “And we’re _seriously_ asking you to sign the papers for this kid, Henry! He’d do the same for you…”

Colonel Blake sipped his drink and looked hesitant. It had been one thing to help Private Weston but now he would have to sign papers for _another_ Private and Hawkeye could tell by the look on his face, he didn’t like this idea, for whatever reason.

“It’s just not very GI, is all!” Blake argued.

“Steady, Henry. You’re sounding a lot like Frank. Next you’ll be finding your lips attached to Hot Lips’,” Trapper sipped.

“Actually, sir,” Radar cleared his throat to make his presence known. “It’s completely one hundred percent GI.”

“See? It’s just a swap, Henry! Their outfit isn’t going be out one foot soldier. They’re just doing Private Wilkins’ a favor and transferring him to a whole new life somewhere else so somebody else can have a miserable time in his old outfit.” Hawkeye finished his drink and stood up, searching his face.

Henry didn’t want to do this for a Private he barely even knew. Would he even do the same for Hawkeye if he needed to transfer to a different hospital? The thought that his friend wouldn’t do it for him made him feel sick.

Blake sighed but nodded before waving dismissively, obviously just wanting the boys out of his office and off his back. “Radar, give me the paper-"

Before he could finish his sentence, Radar had slipped the papers in front of him and were speaking at the same time as he was. “Here are the papers you want to sign, sir.”

Hawkeye and Trapper exchanged a small smile when he saw their mutual friend start signing the swap papers. Then, to their dismay, they saw Klinger burst in with a frantic look on his face, looking at Hawkeye.

“What is it?” He asked worriedly. “What happened?”

“It’s Private Wilkins! Something happened and you’re needed in OR!”

Trapper looked at Hawkeye unsurely. “You OK to operate, Hawk?”

The other man nodded quickly and hurriedly went to the OR to scrub up. His heart raced as he put his surgical gear on and started to wash his hands quickly but thoroughly. When he saw Klinger in the scrub room with him, he glanced over.

“Did he rip his stitches on his head, Klinger? What the hell happened?”

Klinger moved closer over to him. “He… he opened up his wrists, sir. With a nearby scalpel that was on a table. He must have grabbed it when the nurses’ backs were turned –"

Hawkeye had so many questions right now but he didn’t have time. “We need to hurry, Klinger,” he replied as he raised his hands and someone applied clean gloves to his hands. “We need to figure out what blood type he is and line someone up to share it with him. I’ll be lucky if I can just keep this kid alive.”

He hurried into the OR and saw Frank already starting to operate on his wrists. Hawkeye made his way over to him. He saw Trapper looking at Hawkeye expectedly. “Out of the way, Frank. Let real doctors take care of this one.”

“I beg your pardon! Pierce, I _am_ a real doctor! I went through just as many years of med school as you two!” Frank objected.

“Out of the way, Frank!” Henry ordered sharply as he also entered the OR. “Get out of the way and let Pierce and McIntyre work! Just give me one less headache!”

Hawkeye didn’t look back at Frank as the other doctor did as he was told and had a nurse hold the place where he left off before Trapper and him went straight to work, working frantically to stop the bleeding.

The blood was everywhere, though; on the floor, on Wilkins’ clothes, down his forearms, a trail led from his bed to the OR where Klinger had started to mop up.

“Did you find out what blood type he is, Klinger?” He asked as calmly as he could, trying not to take this personally as his heart pounded against his ribcage.

“Clipboard and dog tags say type O, sir.”

 _Of course._ _Of course it’s O… why wouldn’t it be? It seemed so damn appropriate seeing everything else that they had in common, why not their blood type as well? They already seemed like brothers; it was deemed fitting they’d be blood brothers too._

“Oy. From our last blood census we took, I don’t believe we had many O types in the camp…”

Klinger nodded and looked frustrated. “We had one, but he got transferred back to the states. Everyone else is either A or B. What are we going to do, Hawkeye? We need to get blood back into this kid! He’s already looking like a ghoul.”

“Thank you, doctor,” Hawkeye spoke distractedly as he concentrated on stitching arteries back together. “That’ll be all.”

When Klinger walked onto another table, he heard Trapper’s voice in his ear.

“Not to sound like a broken record, Hawk, but he is looking a little on the ghostly side. I’d like to put my blood into this kid myself but I’m not the blood type. What about you?”

He sighed. “Looks like I’m going to have to or else he’ll permanently look like a ghost. As soon as we stitch him up and get him stable again, I’ll do a blood transfer.”

“Right, I’ll cover any other OR work for you,” Trapper said quickly as he worked on the opposite wrist.

Hawkeye glanced up at him for a split second before looking back down at what he was doing. His friend didn’t even hesitate. He didn’t ask Hawkeye if he wanted him to cover for him; he just volunteered himself and that was that.

It wasn’t like the doctor wasn’t grateful; of course he was. He would have given his friend an option either way but he didn’t expect Trapper to decide to it, no questions asked. “Thanks, Trap. I appreciate the help.”

“I know you do, or else I wouldn’t have offered,” Trapper’s face crinkled a bit and Hawkeye felt warm again, knowing that his friend was smirking underneath his mask.

It took a few hours but the two doctors finally stabilized Private Wilkins and stitched him up. Hawkeye couldn’t believe it; they had saved this young man that had cut open both his wrists in an attempted suicide. He knew that Wilkins would be upset when he woke up again, but all that mattered was that he woke up at all.

Right now, though, he needed blood. Desperately.

As they hauled off Wilkins to Post-Op, Hawkeye stripped off his operating materials and sat down next to Wilkins. He watched as two nurses helped to set up the IV with blood, connecting him to Wilkins as his blood started to run through the tubes.

“Anything else I can do for you, Hawkeye?” Nurse Bigelow asked him once she and Nurse Able had finished.

“Ask me again in twenty-four hours, Bigelow. Meet me in the storage room at eleven tomorrow night,” he smirked playfully.

She rolled her eyes but was smiling as she walked away to check on another patient.

He checked on the tubes and leaned back in the chair, feeling dead tired. No, just tired. No more dead, or death. He couldn’t think about those few men who came off the lines here and just couldn’t make it. They fought until they just couldn’t anymore.

He was so tired of people dying around him. He just wanted it to stop. He tried to go over the reasons why Wilkins would have done what he did but it all boiled down to one thing: _he just wanted it to stop._

He was hiding who he really was from as many people as he could, but something happened, and he had gotten caught. Now people knew, and he had seemed optimistic about Hawkeye helping him before, but maybe that had just been an act.

He must have fallen asleep because when he woke up, Trapper was standing over him, taking his blood pressure.

“The patient’s right here, in case you mistook my body for his,” Hawkeye tiredly jested.

“How you feelin’, Hawk?”

He took a moment to ground himself to see how he actually felt. “Great, if I felt any lighter, I’d be a bird.”

“Dizzy? Lightheaded?” Trapper asked with concern in his voice. When he looked over and saw Hawkeye shrug, he carefully disconnected the tubes and set it down.

“Hey, what are you doing?” Hawkeye felt himself come alive again, standing on his feet. “I need to do this and I’m the only one here that can!”

Trapper placed a gentle hand on Hawkeye’s chest to make him sit down again in the chair. “Calm down, will ya? You can keep sharing your fluids once you get some OJ into you and a bit of shuteye.”

Hawkeye wanted to object again but he felt so exhausted between surgery and now this that he ran out of fight. “Mess tent, then?”

“Yeah, give me a minute to finish up here and I’ll walk over with you.”

Hawkeye rubbed his eyes with his palms. “What time is it?”

“About eleven-thirty. You’ve been out for a while.”

“Well, I got my shuteye then,” Hawkeye waited for Trapper to finish up talking to his patients and then took his hand when his friend offered it to him to help Hawkeye stand up again.

They trudged out Post-Op and over to the mess tent were Trapper grabbed a glass of Army OJ for Hawkeye and set the cup in front of him before sitting down beside him.

“Drink up.”

“Thanks,” Hawkeye grabbed the Styrofoam cup and drank the whole thing in one go. He then remembered why he was feeling so mentally exhausted. He looked over at Trapper now with sad eyes. “I didn’t give him enough hope. I… should have told him that I was going to do something to help him, for sure.”

“Hawk, this is the Army; nothing’s ever for sure. You did the best you could.”

He rested his elbow on the table and pinched the bridge of his nose. “It wasn’t good enough. He… he grabbed the scalpel, Trapper… where did he even get that anyway? Where did it come from? We don’t bring surgical equipment into Post-Op!”

Trapper thought for a moment and looked over at him. “Someone else brought it in when they visited him. Maybe they knew what he was gonna do with it.”

Then a horrible thought came into Hawkeye’s mind. “They wanted him to do that. They wanted him to hurt himself…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I searched and searched and I could not for the life of me find Hawkeye's blood type, so as far as this story is concerned, it's O.


	4. Comfort Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> .....

**.     .     .**

  
Hawkeye Pierce had given another pint of blood to Wilkins the following day (against Henry Blake’s orders, of course), and used the time to reflect, perhaps too heavily on the situation and himself.

He swallowed hard as he looked up from his familiar chair near Wilkins’ bed to look at Trapper, watching as he went from bed to bed, carefully checking up on the men whom he had taken shrapnel out of the past couple days. It was evident Trapper cared just as much as he did about the soldiers that came in here, and this made whatever he was feeling a hundred times harder.

He knew his feelings for his friend went deeper than he cared to admit to anyone, and he doubt that he felt the same way back. Hawkeye couldn’t blame him though; he knew McIntyre had a wife and two daughters, but it didn’t stop him from fooling around with the other nurses here in Korea.

_No, god damn it, Hawkeye. Stop thinking like that. There are more pressing matters at hand right now. Stop thinking about yourself, you selfish bastard._

It was difficult, but he forced his eyes off of Trapper and back to Wilkins, whose color had started to come back. His wrists were both bandaged and his arms were in restraints, just in case he tried again, but now there was a deadness to his eyes that made Hawkeye uncomfortable.

Right now, his eyes were closed but the Captain could tell by Wilkins’ breathing that he was awake.

“Did you do it because of… w-what you are, or… because someone else told you to do it?” Hawkeye asked in a low voice, in case prying ears happened to be listening to them.

The Private didn’t even look at him but he opened his eyes now, looking straight ahead. “Both, sir.”

Hawkeye leaned in now, searching his face. “Who was it, Wilkins? Who told you that you should take that scalpel to your wrists? Only surgeons are allowed to open you up.”

The only man was silent for several long minutes and in that time, Hawkeye couldn’t think of anything else to say. Luckily, he didn’t have to be speechless for long when the Private spoke again.

“No offense, Doc, but why the hell do you care so much? No one else does. I’m just worthless. I don’t deserve to be here…”

“None of us deserve to be here but the draft board decided differently.”

“Not… in Korea. I mean, _here._ Alive. I don’t deserve to be alive…” Wilkins choked out, a tear running down his cheek now before he wiped it away almost angrily.

It pained the doctor to hear those words come out of this kid. He instantly started shaking his head, his jaw clenched in frustration. “No. You don’t mean that. You don’t really think that…”

Wilkins turned his head to look at Hawkeye now. “Oh yeah? Don’t I?” He shook his head. “You should have just let me die, sir. I’m no good to anyone alive.”

Pierce couldn’t take any more of this right now. He carefully took the transfer tubes out of his arm and set it back on the table before grabbing a small bit of fabric to hold it against Wilkins’ forearm first. “I hate to tell you this but you’re no good to anyone dead either, pal! You don’t get to just quit.”

He was satisfied that the other man didn’t have anything to say to that. He threw out the bloodied fabric before grabbing a clean one and held it to his own forearm now. He glanced around and saw Nurse Kelly.

“Make sure someone’s watching him, Nurse. I don’t think I have the stomach to stitch him up a second time…”

“Of course, Hawkeye.”

He practically stormed out of Post-Op and felt better when he got a whiff of fresh air. He breathed it deep into his lungs, feeling tortured. He knew he should have told that Private that whoever said those things to him was wrong, and that he did deserve to live, but he despised that there was a small part of him that felt like those things might be true, but about himself.

He pressed the fabric harder than he meant to against his skin, feeling hot tears welling in his eyes, but he pushed them back when he saw Radar walk over to him.

“I hope to God you have good news, Radar, or else I’m just going to put myself in a box marked Fragile and have myself shipped back to the States right here and now,” Hawkeye remarked.

Radar gave a small, sad smile. “Umm… since Private Wilkins tried to… y’know… he gets a bus to Tokyo, before he’s shipped back home to get help. Colonel Blake signed the forms.”

Hawkeye felt guilty about feeling better now about Wilkins’ situation. At least he’d get the help he desperately needs, but not the help he deserved. He knew that he wouldn’t be treated well in a mental hospital; even Korea had better conditions than those places.

“Thanks, Radar,” he spoke softly before the clerk went back to his office.

He walked back into Post-Op and checked on the rest of his patients before getting changed and started for the showers. He undressed again, and walked into a stall before turning the water on. The cold water felt good against the warm air outside.

About five minutes later, he heard the door open and close, and someone else move into the shower stall next to him. “Nurse Bigelow, is that you? Not here, someone might see,” he joked casually, knowing who it really would be.

“How’s Wilkins’ doing? I feel like he’s your patient more than mine…”

Hawkeye rinsed the soap off his face and hair before he looked over at Trapper. His friend was as lanky as he was but he had muscles. “Radar just told me that he gets to go back to the States. Attempted suicide gets a person shipped back home to mom and apple pie.”

“Or in his case, more beatings, isolation, judgement and the loony bin,” Trapper said, disappointedly.

Hawkeye just nodded in agreement, also feeling disappointed. He rinsed himself off now and shut the water off, but didn’t move out of the stall. He just looked over at his friend, searching his face.

“I should have been paying closer attention to him, Trap. I should have seen what was going on and put an end to it before he tried to end himself. I-I should have done something, anything,” he swallowed back a lump in the back of his throat.

Trapper looked shaken by his friend and roomie’s appearance, having hardly ever seen him like this before. His eyes were gentle as he spoke. “Hawk, we have a lot of patients and more being brought in every day. We can’t be in two places at once, you know that. You did do somethin’. You gave your blood to him. You didn’t have to, but you did, because… that’s just the kind of person you are.”

Hawkeye found some comfort in his words, quiet for a while. “He could’ve died…”

“But he didn’t,” Trapper said, going back to rinsing himself off. He finished up quickly and shut his own water off. He looked hesitant at first, but then he placed his hand on Hawkeye’s, and instantly, Pierce could feel his hairs standing on end, like some weird electrical current was running through both of them, connecting them.

“He’s alive because of you, Hawkeye, whether he likes it or not. Don’t forget that. Maybe he can find peace back home somehow and if he can, that’s only because you gave him that blood that kept him alive to make that trip.”

All Hawkeye could do was nod meekly, wanting to believe what Trapper was telling him. He wanted to believe it so bad, but Wilkins’ words were still running through his head.

_“No offense, Doc, but why the hell do you care so much? No one else does. I’m just worthless. I don’t deserve to be here…”_

He dried his chest and arms off with the towel before wrapping it around his waist. Maybe _he_ didn’t deserve to be here either. He hated that he was letting Wilkins’ words eat away at him but he had put the idea into his head, and now he couldn’t get it out.

Hawkeye felt himself getting weaker and weaker until he let out a gross sob that echoed the shower room and made his legs collapse from underneath him. His body hit the wooden stall and he felt ashamed as the sobs racked his body now.

“Hawk!” Trapper wrapped his own towel around his waist and hurried over to him before he knelt down in front of him.

He wasn’t entirely sure what he was crying about, and he was quickly becoming painfully aware of what was going on right now. Hawkeye Pierce was sobbing on the ground, in his towel, in the shower room, and his best friend and roommate was here watching the whole thing unfold before his eyes.

“Hey,” Trapper tried to soothe him, placing a hand on Hawkeye’s shoulder. “What’s going on, Hawkeye? Talk to me…”

The other man’s body was trembling as he cried and he just tried to curl himself closer into himself, never having wanted Trapper to see him like this, so weak. He shook his head and tried to move away from him but Trapper quickly, but gently, pulled him back towards him.

“Hey now, c’mon, Hawk. Please talk to me. You don’t want Frank to see you like this,” he encouraged softly. “He might do you a favor and get you sent back home.”

Hawkeye couldn’t help now but let himself chuckle weakly at that comment. He hid his face with his hands, trying to get himself under control. He couldn’t tell Trapper the truth; not yet. Not when there were so many uncertainties about how he would react. He swallowed back another sob and closed his eyes in exhaustion as he rested his head against the support of the shower stall.

Trapper, still kneeling in front of him, looked at him almost in amusement, half smirking. “If the Army had told me my roommate might randomly burst out in tears, I would’ve stayed home with my wife. Are you all right?”

Hawkeye smirked as well and nodded. “I’m all right,” he echoed, even if he didn’t truly feel that way. He couldn’t lay everything on Trapper’s shoulders like this, in the shower where anyone could just walk in. And then it would really look bad.

“Good, why don’t you go get some sleep? You’ve had a rough day and you’re looking as pale as the scrambled eggs.”

Hawkeye nodded and reluctantly pushed himself off the floor before also helping Trapper back up as well. He placed a hand on his shoulder and smiled weakly. “Thanks, Trap.”

His friend nodded in acknowledgment and understanding. Hawkeye headed out of the shower building and started for the Swamp, but stopped when he saw Nurse Bigelow walk across the compound towards him, a mischievous smile on her face.

“I know you just took a shower but would you like to get a bit dirty again?”

Hawkeye chuckled and took a shaky breath. “You always catch me off guard, Bigelow. As tempting as that offer is, can I get a rain check?”

Her smile slowly faded and now he was met with disappointment. “You’ve already had a raincheck from last week, and then yesterday… are you sure you’re still attracted to me, Hawkeye?”

He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and kissed her hair. “Is Frank Burns still attracted to Margaret Houllihan? Of course I am. It’s just… been a rough couple weeks. I promise I’ll be able to do some heavy breathing with you tomorrow. Say, the supply closet, around 11?”

She looked skeptical but smiled. “Okay, but if you stand me up one more time, you’re out of the game with me.”

Hawkeye resented that she said this but he nodded anyway. As she unpeeled herself from him and walked over to the mess tent, he exhaled shakily and started back to the Swamp to sleep off the day.


	5. My Confession

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ....

**.     .    .**

_“What the hell are you doing? W-What are you thinking, Ben? Someone might see us…”_

_“Don’t you… you know, feel this? Don’t you feel something between us? It’s so strong – you can’t tell me you don’t feel it…”_

_“I-I don’t! You’re… you’re one of those guys, and… I can’t be that, Ben! I can’t!”_

_  
_ When Hawkeye woke up, he had warm tears streaming down his face and a tightness in his chest. The first man he had fallen in love with, and he had been treated like a second class citizen. That was when Hawkeye had pulled him into the custodian’s closet at school and closed the door before pressing his lips against Jack’s lips and felt the same electrical spark he had felt when Trapper had touched his arm the day before in the shower.

He had felt something, no… _everything,_ at once. Worse yet, he knew for a damned fact that Jack had felt the same magic in that kiss as he had felt. Instead of embracing it though, Jack had chosen to ignore and repress it.

That had crushed Hawkeye, and he thought how utterly ridiculous the whole situation had been. The irony was not lost on him, and it had been purely coincidental that Hawkeye had chosen a closet to kiss him in. If he had actually thought about it first, he would’ve chosen a classroom or a bedroom.

“Hawk? You awake?” Trapper’s voice called out tiredly, half-awake.

From how light it was outside, Hawkeye figured it was about 6 a.m. but he could see that Frank wasn’t in the tent with them.

“Unfortunately, yes,” Hawkeye answered back, glancing over at the other doctor who was still laying on his stomach.

“Unfortunately? Are you still reelin’ from Wilkins or did you hit the sauce after we parted ways?”

“I should’ve done some from column B but instead I’m full of column A and a little of C.”

Trapper finally looked over at his friend. “What’s in column C?”

Hawkeye grew quiet now but his heart was pounding hard in his chest, contemplating. Maybe he could subtly bring up the subject and test the waters without letting on his true intentions?

He rubbed his eyes and looked down at his feet as he lay in his cot, afraid to see the look on Trapper’s face. “Do you love your wife?”

Trap let out a short laugh. “Do I love my wife? What kind of question is that?”

Hawkeye sighed softly. “I mean… you sleep with other women around camp, and you have your wife and kids back home. Do you ever feel guilty about it? Does your wife know? Does she care?”

“These are a lot of questions for 6 in the morning. I need at least two cups of coffee before I can answer them,” Trapper half joked.

“I’m serious, though. Do you ever regret sleeping around on her?” Hawkeye could feel eyes on him now, but he needed to know what the deal was.

 Trapper shrugged. “Sometimes. I have moments, you know? I start thinking about my girls back home, and my mind drifts off to my wife. Most of the time I try to not think about it, though. Most of the guys ‘round here that have wives back home don’t care, and same with some of the nurses as well. Everyone’s cheatin’ on somebody. I figure my wife probably assumes that I’m cheatin’ on her over here anyway.”

“Has she ever let on in her letters to you?”

Trapper gave a dismissive shrug. “Nah, but I think she would stay with me even if she knew I did. She’d say that she understood how hard it is for us right now, and she forgives me for it. Why all the questions about my wife, Hawkeye? Are you lookin’ for a column C to call your own?”

Hawkeye gave a genuine chuckle before he forced himself to sit up. “Me, married? I’m a permanent bachelor,” he gave a smirk but then felt his voice get low. “I can’t imagine myself married to any woman.”

He quickly looked up now at his friend to see the reaction and there was a tense moment being shared between them. He watched as Trapper’s Adam’s apple bobbed up and down in a rapid motion as the man swallowed, perhaps nervously.

Trapper’s eyes pierced into Hawkeyes’ own eyes and his thoughts were confirmed; it was evident that his friend and roommate felt something towards him as well.

He coughed. “Y-Yeah, sure. Umm… I’m gonna head to Pre-Op to check on my patients,” he replied, also sitting up.

Hawkeye could see he was uncomfortable now and internally cursed himself. He had wanted to do this as subtly as possible and he had only possibly screwed things up for both of them. He nodded and looked back down at his feet.

“Y-Yeah, I’m going to go grab some coffee. I’ll meet you in OR all too soon, I’m sure.” He saw Trapper give a nod before the two of them dressed in awkward silence and parted ways outside.

Hawkeye dug his nails into his own palms before he grabbed at his own hair. _He had just fucked everything up, just like he always did. How could he be so damned stupid?_

The last thing he wanted was to make his friend uncomfortable. He walked into the mess tent and grabbed a warm mug of Army coffee before he sat down at a table. It looked like most people were in their tents still or in Post-Op; the mess tent was pretty much empty except for a few familiars. One of those familiars soon walked over to Hawkeye with his breakfast on a tray and cleared his throat, knocking the doctor out of his thoughts.

“Excuse me, Hawkeye. Do you mind if I sit down?”

The Captain glanced up at him and shook his head. “Not at all, Father. Please, sit.”

The camp priest gave a small, grateful smile and sat down across from the other man. “Is something troubling you? You look deep in thought.”

He knew that this probably wasn’t going to go over well but he needed to tell someone, anyone who he confide in. This was probably a mistake. “Can… I speak to you as a friend? A confession of sorts?”

Father Mulcahy looked serious now and leaned in. “Oh, well… I suppose so, Hawkeye. I mean, of course you can. I’m the best secret keeper in town.”

Hawkeye swallowed anxiously and glanced around before also moving in towards him. “I’m… like Private Weston, but… with women as well…” He trailed off, searching the Father’s eyes for a reaction.

The older man looked confused at first but adjusted his glasses and looked thoughtful. “Oh.”

Hawkeye’s jaw dropped and he felt somewhat disappointed. “I just told you my deepest, darkest secret and all you can say is ‘Oh’? Forgive me, Father, but haven’t I sinned? I expected a broader reaction.”

Father Mulcahy’s eyes became conflicted. “The Bible does state that those who are homosexual have committed a sin, so… I feel as though it would hypothetically be the same result for those in your unique position. However, I do feel… at odds in an internal struggle of sorts.”

“How so, Father?” Hawkeye looked at him curiously.

“I felt very bad for Private Weston, as I do now for Private Wilkins. They are both good people, good men, and… I sometimes have difficulty believing that God would not grant both these men into his Kingdom when their time is up. In the Bible, he grants forgiveness for these… sins, but… once again, I am struggling because I feel as though you cannot help who you fall in love with, however much you try. To answer your question, Hawkeye, I believe God will forgive you, and I don’t believe you’ll go to Hell for loving someone, not of the same sex.”

Hawkeye was surprised by this answer and hadn’t expected it, and by looking into Father Mulcahy’s eyes, it was evident that he believed his own words, though conflict was readable on his face. It was the first time he had heard the Father question his own beliefs, and yet, he also hadn’t completely denied that Hawkeye hadn’t sinned.

He was hardly one for being religious since he got drafted into this War, so he wasn’t completely worried about going to Hell. It brought Hawkeye a strange comfort to confide in someone else about it. Now it was going to be the heavy hitting question to ask next.

“What… should I do if I… love someone from around here but he’s married?”

The Father brows furrowed now in worry. “If he’s married, then… I don’t believe it is right to interfere with that, Hawkeye.”

The Captain ran a hand through his dark hair and sighed. “What if… he feels the same way about me? If he divorces his wife, then is it still wrong?”

“This is dangerous territory. I hear many confessions on a daily basis about soldiers… going beyond enemy lines, so to speak. A part of me believes that it is wrong to interfere in such affairs but… as a priest in a war, I also believe that our time here is very limited, and could end at any moment, and it’s important to tell people how you feel before it’s too late.”

Hawkeye gave a small smirk and took a drink of coffee. “It’s a good thing you’re not a surgeon, Father. You’d have difficulty making up your mind whether to leave the shrapnel in or take it out.”

Father Mulcahy gave a smile at his fellow friend’s lighthearted joke. “It’s a good thing indeed, Hawkeye. I’m sorry I can’t be of much help.”

Hawkeye shook his head. “You helped, Father.”

“Oh, well… in that case, I’m glad I could help. Is there anything else you’d like to get off your chest?”

Hawkeye finished his coffee and stood up.

“Only my heart, Father.”


	6. Those 3 Little Words

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> .......

**.      .     .**

Talking with Father Mulcahy had helped a bit but for the most part, it just made Hawkeye feel more tortured than he did before. He knew the Father’s heart was in the right place, though, and he felt grateful to have such a friend like that right now.

However, he wanted someone who was more than a friend, a companion, really.  Now he’d just settle for his patients who needed him more than he needed them.

The one patient that he had his hands inside at the moment had received four bullets in (luckily) non-vital places. At least he didn’t have to focus too hard on this surgery; it was one he could perform in his sleep, he had done it so many times since he’d been over here.

“I think this kid stepped on a mortar,” Trapper sighed solemnly as he worked busily. “He’s got a belly full of shrapnel.”

“Mine has a body full of bullets,” Hawkeye chimed in. He glanced over at Trapper who also glanced up at him.

“This whole war would be fine if we could switch the real bullets out for fake ones…”

Hawkeye nodded in agreement and went back to work. He had been performing surgery for about five hours when he heard Burns give a trouble sound.

“Aw geez…”

Hawkeye looked up from his stitching as he finished up the patient he was on. “What’s wrong, Frank?”

“There’s just… so much blood,” Frank complained. “I can’t see a thing! Too much shrapnel in this one. It’s a lost cause!”

“So are you, Frank, but we still keep you around,” Trapper joked.

Hawkeye was glad he had a surgical mask on and no one could see him smirk at his friend’s joke. “Do you want to switch patients? I’ve been getting the cake ones.”

“I’m perfectly capable of performing surgery on the harder ones!” Burns insisted indignantly.

“Well get on with it then, Burns! Time is wasting. Switch with Pierce,” Colonel Blake ordered.

Hawkeye hurriedly moved over to Frank’s patient as the other doctor moved over to his table and started working as another patient was brought to him. He went to work on Frank’s patient, feeling sick at all the shrapnel that was inside of him.

“Oh my God,” Pierce sighed. “I can do this but not alone. Trap, can you help me?” There was no one else he felt he could work fluidly and smoothly with than his friend. They were just a great team together.

“Yeah, gimme a minute. Just finishin’ up with this one. Do what ya can and I’ll be there in a minute, Hawk.”

Hawkeye did what he was told, finding the biggest pieces of shrapnel and carefully removing them before them quickly, and efficiently, stitched up the bleeding. He felt himself sweating and he knew that it wasn’t just the temperature in Korea. He had become spoiled with all the easy cases he had taken this afternoon that he was starting to question his own skills on these tougher ones. It felt like hours but eventually Trapper made his way over to him and even though he saw his friend sweating, it was amazing how nice he smelled.

Then he felt silly and selfish; this kid was sprouting leaks and bleeding all over and Hawkeye was crushing on his friend like some elementary girl with a crush. It was ridiculous.

“What a mess,” Trapper whispered softly as he worked diligently. “How are you doin’?”

Hawkeye finished picking out another small piece of shrapnel out of the soldier’s stomach and threw it into the silver dish with a _clink!_

“About as well as can be expected. I haven’t seen so many leaks since I had to fix the kitchen faucet back home,” he replied.

It was the only way he could deal with the current situation right now, by joking. That was always Hawkeye’s way of coping in stressful times. If he didn’t joke, he figured he’d probably barricade himself in the Swamp and hide under his covers and cry until the war was over. Obviously that was not a valid option.

“Steady, Hawk. We’re almost done here.”

There was something soothing about Trapper’s voice that brought him back to focus on their mutual patient. Somehow, the voice told Hawkeye: _He’s going to live. Just calm down._

He took a deep breath and nodded in a silent acknowledgement as the two men worked. It was about an hour and a half later when they finally closed together when Benjamin Pierce was able to relax for real.

“You did good in there, Hawkeye,” Trapper spoke softly, glancing over at his friend as they changed in the back room of Post-Op.

“You weren’t so bad yourself,” Hawkeye smirked tiredly. He exchanged his scrubs for his regular army clothing and stretched out his hands. “I don’t think I’ve panicked like that since I had to pick teams for dodgeball…”

“Stop, Hawk,” the other man suddenly ordered, though his voice was more gentle than GI.

The command made the Captain do a double take and he glanced over at the other man. “I’m sorry? What do you mean, ‘stop?’”

Trapper had slipped on his green pants and he moved closer to his comrade unexpectedly. They were only a few inches away from each other, making Hawkeye’s heart beat faster in his ribcage.

“I mean… I know your way, Hawk. I’ve known ya for a decent time now, and I know you joke when you’re really in agony. Why can’t ya just knock off the impressions of Groucho Marx and show how you really are feelin’? You don’t have to hide from me…”

Hawkeye stretched his aching arms behind his back and then over his head before resting them back down at his sides. He looked over at Trapper, feeling like a gumball machine with all the feelings he was stuffed up with and hiding.

He loved and trusted Trapper more than he cared to admit but he also was terrified of how his friend might react to the truth. The safest bet was to change the subject.

“How’s your patient, Private Wilkins?”

Trapper squared up with Hawkeye and folded his arms in front of his chest. “Last time I saw him, he had both his wrists bandaged up, but I heard he was on his way home. You’d know better than me! I know what you’re doin’ and I understand why you’re doin’ it, but I don’t like it.”

“What are you talking about?”

Trapper suddenly kicked over the bag that held all their used gloves in. “Stop it! Knock it off, Hawkeye! Just stop!”

Hawkeye glanced down as Trapper’s angry voice boomed in the room. He wasn’t surprised when he saw Henry Blake charge in a few seconds later.

“What the heck is going on in here? Would you both either pipe it down or take this outside? We’ve got patients in there that don’t need to be in the middle of another fight right now!” Henry ordered before he moved back out into Post-Op.

Hawkeye opened the door that led outside and held it open for Trapper as well, who closed it behind him before he looked back at the man.

“Don’t tell me that you can’t feel this mysterious wall between us, Hawk. I sure as hell can. What is this? What has you keepin’ secrets from me all of a sudden? I thought we were on the same team,” Trapper spoke softer and gentler than earlier.

Hawkeye felt like his blood was turning to mush. He rubbed his eyes with his palms and he shook his head. “We _are_ on the same side, Trapper! Always.”

“Then prove it,” he threw his arms up in the air. “Tell me something that’s real.”

Hawkeye fought the urge to crack another joke as he took a deep breath. “Buy me a drink at Rosie’s? There shouldn’t be any more casualties today…”

He could tell that Trapper didn’t like this suggestion but he knew it was the only way he’d be able to tell Trapper the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.

“Fine, but make one more joke and I’m goin’ back to the Swamp,” John McIntyre threatened.

Hawkeye nodded in understanding and the two men started down the road towards Rosie’s bar.

 

**.   .    .   .   .   .**

“Alright, Hawk, you’ve had enough drinks to drown a camel. It’s time to talk or else I’m leavin’,” Trapper said as he finished off his fourth beer.

By now, Hawkeye’s head was swimming, no, drowning, and his stomach was doing backstrokes. He had started out with a beer, but one beer turned into four, and four turned into two whiskeys.

“How’s… how’s the kid we were workin’ on earlier?” Hawkeye asked softly, looking up at Trapper.

His friend was looking agitated now. “I’m sure he’s fine, Hawk. If he wasn’t, I have no doubt someone would have come and found us by now. C’mon now… talk to me. I’m your friend, and I don’t want whatever… _this_ … is, to get in the way in the OR.  Did I do somethin’ to tick you off or what?”

 _Did Trapper do something?_ How could he even think this? Wasn’t it obvious by now that it was Hawkeye’s own doing?

Hawkeye looked down at the table and shook his head, smiling weakly. “No, Trap… You didn’t do anything…”

The other man looked at him expectantly, waiting for his friend to continue. When he didn’t, he sighed and stood up, causing Hawkeye to tense up.

“Wait, where are you going?”

“Home. Back to the Swamp. I ain’t gettin’ nowhere with you here. And you’re usually so talkative after a couple drinks. I’ll see you back there.”

Hawkeye watched as Trapper paid for all their drinks and then started outside. Watching his friend leave in frustration set something off in Hawkeye and made him hurry out as if his heels were on fire. He caught up with Trapper outside and grabbed his jacket.

“W-Wait! Wait…” Hawkeye begged, his stomach now backstroking through his esophagus. He was going to have to tell him the truth or else risk their friendship for the rest of the war.

“Wait? Wait for what, Hawkeye? Wait for you to tell me nothin’ and keep on with your stupid jokes? Wait for you to collapse in the shower again? Tell me what the hell I’m waitin’ for…”

_Oh god, here it comes…_

“N-No… no… I just –" Before Hawkeye could further explain himself, he felt the alcohol come back up the same way it went in earlier. Luckily, he had been able to turn around in time before emptying his stomach on the ground.

“Jesus, Hawk!” Trapper exclaimed, taking a step back to avoid the friendly fire.

“S-Sorry,” Hawkeye apologized pathetically as he leaned against the building, emptying his stomach contents one more time. When he was done, he wiped his mouth with his sleeve and nearly jumped when he felt a gentle hand on his back.

“No, Hawk, I’m sorry… whatever you’re hidin’ from me has got you so twisted up. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you like this before. I was just… frustrated that my best friend here wouldn’t even tell me the truth and I pushed you. Whatever you can’t tell me must be damned important if it’s makin’ you drink like this to excess.”

Hawkeye shook his head. “You’ve seen me drunk before…” He felt Trapper’s hand give a gentle and reassuring grip on his shoulder.

“Happy drunk. Not miserable drunk. You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. If it’s too personal or whatever,” he spoke kindly. “I know that I don’t always tell you everythin’ either.”

Of course it was at this point after Trapper said this when Hawkeye’s conscious kicked into high gear. It was always after someone told someone else they didn’t have to tell them a secret, when they finally did tell them it. It happened without fail, and Hawkeye had always thought it was some movie gimmick but he felt it deep within him that now he was obligated to tell Trapper the truth, everything he was hiding, and this terrified him the most. It terrified him that his friend and his feelings could make him feel like this, on a turn of a dime.

“I… I think I might… l-love you, Trap.”

Trapper let out an easygoing chuckle. “I love you too, Hawkeye.”

_Oh god, Trapper thought Hawkeye was either joking or just saying it as friend. Shit._

Hawkeye finally looked over at Trapper, tears glistening in his eyes now. “No, I mean… I think I really _love_ you… you know?”

Trapper’s smile fell now and his eyebrows knitted in conflict and confusion, his hand slowly slipping off of Hawkeye’s shoulder.

“Trap? Say something.”

The other Captain looked at Hawkeye still and used the hand that had been on his friend’s shoulder to rub the back of his neck. He swallowed hard and he cleared his throat. “Umm… I-I can’t.”

“Can’t? Can’t what?”

Trapper took another step away from him. “I’m sorry, Hawkeye. I just… can’t.”

Hawkeye watched in dismay and terror was Trapper turned around and started back down the road towards camp again. His stomach turned violently and he turned back around just in time to retch on the ground again, feeling like he was going to implode into himself.

_This had been a mistake._


	7. Commit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> .....

.      .     .

 

Hawkeye woke up the next morning with the worst hangover he ever had, and most of it wasn’t even from the excess of alcohol. Worse yet, he remembered everything that had happened last night, and that thought just made him want to drink all over again.

He looked over at Trapper’s cot to see he wasn’t there. It made sense though; his friend (or perhaps ex friend now) wasn’t one for confrontations with him. Where Hawkeye wanted to meet any problems between them head on, Trapper was the complete opposite, pretending that things were okay until they were forced to deal with the elephant in the room.

Now the elephant was out of the supply closet and Hawkeye felt scared, lost.

He carefully got dressed as Frank slept on his cot nearby, snoring away, oblivious to anything that was going on. Hawkeye put his shoes on and then headed towards the mess tent. His heart was in his throat as he entered, looking around for that familiar mop of curly blonde hair.

He took a deep breath when his eyes landed on it, and then walked towards the table where Trapper sat, drinking coffee and munching on a piece of burnt toast. Clearing his throat first, he sat down beside him so they could talk quietly, but still hear each other.

“Was it something I said last night that drove you away this morning?” Hawkeye asked him, half- jokingly, half full of dread.

Trapper didn’t meet his gaze.

“I have a wife, kids… I can’t… do whatever it is you wanna do, Hawk…”

Hawkeye looked down at his long, slender hands anxiously. He knew this wasn’t going to go well but he also didn’t want it to change anything between them. He wanted to go back in time and never tell Trapper the truth.

“I don’t want to do _anything_ ,” Hawkeye partially lied. “I just… I wanted you to know how I felt, about you. I know you’re married with children and living the white picket fenced life. I just –"

Trapper suddenly looked shook as he looked at his friend with realization in his eyes. “That’s why you asked me if I loved my wife the other day… Jesus, Hawk. What did you expect from all this? Did you think that I would divorce her to be with you?”

Hawkeye shook his head, hating that his eyes were filling up with tears. It was amazing that Trapper could make him feel so weak in a place where he had to be strong 24/7 because patients’ lives depended on it.

“I-I don’t know. I don’t know why I asked that… I just… I see you go rendezvous with the nurses and –"

Trapper leaned in closer and Hawkeye could smell his aftershave.

“They know what my intentions are, and they’re okay with it. They’re not expectin’ anything permanent to come from it. Some of them have husbands back home anyway!”

Hawkeye suddenly slammed his fist on the table in frustration and wanted to yell but instead, spoke in a hushed, angry whisper so only the other man could hear him.

“How the hell does that make it okay?! How? If you only knew how ridiculous you sounded…. You both are cheating on your significant other! It makes me so angry that you can just wave it off like none of it matters!”

Trapper’s eyes widened in surprise. “Keep your whispers down, will ya?” He rubbed his temples and looked back at Hawkeye. “Where is all this comin’ from? I’m the one who should be mad at you, remember? Not the other way around!”

Hawkeye wasn’t sure where the outburst had come from but it seemed like he didn’t know where else to put his frustration and fear. It felt better to yell at Trapper for being inappropriate than yell at himself for being the same.

“Okay, okay. Forget everything I just yelled… you’re right; we’re getting off topic. I just… I don’t expect you to feel the same as I feel about you. I didn’t expect you to divorce your wife for me,” he admitted. “I… you wanted to know what was going on between us! This was it… my feelings for you are… what’s going on between us.”

Trapper scratched his head and sighed heavily, looking either unsure or confused. He was quiet for a long time before he suddenly got up from the table.

Hawkeye quickly reached out and grabbed the arm of his jacket. “Wait, where are you going? We’re talking…”

Then a voice suddenly came over the P.A. system and interrupted whatever Trapper was going to say.

_“Sorry to interrupt your breakfast but it’s time for another bad taste in your mouth! Casualties are coming, folks, and a lot of them!”_

Trapper let out another sigh. “Let’s talk about this after we’re done patchin’ kids back together, and in somewhere more private…”

Hawkeye nodded and stood up, still clutching Trapper’s jacket sleeve. “You won’t tell anyone about this, will you? I mean, about me?”

Trapper didn’t even bat an eyelash. “No, Hawk. I won’t say anythin’ to anyone. I’m not a rat.”

Hawkeye breathed a sigh of relief and nodded appreciatively before leading the two of them to OR. Instead of an anchor in his stomach, he felt there were just paperweights on his shoulders. He didn’t know what would be worse for him emotionally: Trapper telling Blake or anyone else about what he was and being dishonorably discharged or Trapper feeling that Hawkeye was a different person because of what he was, and deciding to give him a permanent cold shoulder. Both options were pretty awful.

They scrubbed together in silence and then made their way out to their respective operating tables. Now that he knew and trusted his friend not to rat him out, he felt like he could focus a bit more today.

Of course that didn’t make his job all that much easier. He still had to take bullets out of men younger than himself and save innocent people who had been accidental targets of Uncle Sam due to miscommunication or the simple disease of apathy.

It was these cases that made Hawkeye feel depressed about the work he was forced to do and made him wish to be in the casualties’ places just so they wouldn’t have to deal with all this pain. Hawkeye had operated for at least sixteen straight hours before they finally caught a break. He rubbed his eyes tiredly and looked down at the empty table in front of him, nearly jumping when he felt a hand on his shoulder.

“Go get some sleep, Pierce. You did good work today,” Henry praised.

Hawkeye simply nodded and went into the scrub room where Trapper was getting changed. He started to strip off his scrubs as well.

“Haven’t had a session like that in a while,” Trapper attempted to make polite conversation. “I felt like making them scoot over on the table so I could shut my eyes for five minutes.”

“Hmm,” Hawkeye agreed wordlessly, feeling too exhausted mentally and physically to comment properly.

He saw everyone come and go, getting changed and then leaving hurriedly before he realized him and Trapper were still only halfway dressed. It was when he didn’t hear any more footsteps in OR when his friend spoke again.

“Hey, listen – I know that we just came off of operatin’ duty but I still wanna talk… you know? About… us?”

Hawkeye ran his fingers through his hair, taking a deep breath. “Can we do it over a drink?”

“A bit late to go to Rosie’s, isn’t it?”

Hawkeye shook his head. “No, I mean, back at the Swamp. I could really use a belt to make me forget all that blood I just soaked my hands in.”

Trapper gave him a reassuring smile and nodded. “Yeah, sure. Let’s go.”

The two men walked in silence, seeing Major Burns sneak from the Swamp over to Margaret’s tent and looking overly smug before disappearing inside.

“Well that’s good, at least. We’ll be alone without Ferret Face intruding.”

Hawkeye nodded, feeling apprehensive as they entered their tent and poured drinks for themselves. He watched Trapper take a drink of his martini. “I thought you wanted to have this talk in the supply room?”

Trapper shrugged. “That was before we had sixteen hours of meatball surgery. I don’t think my legs can walk that far right now. You okay with talkin’ about it here or did you wanna wait?”

 _I don’t want to have this talk at all,_ Hawkeye thought to himself as he took a long drink of his own martini.

“No, here’s fine…”

“Good,” Trapper nodded, satisfied. He was quiet for a few minutes, looking suddenly uneasy. He leaned over his thighs where he sat on his cot and started to pick at the skin around his nails, a nervous habit Hawkeye observed in their time together.

“If you’re too tired to do this right now...” Hawkeye trailed off, refilling his drink.

Trapper shook his head. “No. No, it’s fine. Umm… so… I didn’t know how to tell you this before because I-I’m only recently comin’ to grips with it myself. I think I might… feel somethin’ towards you as well. I don’t know if it’s love or… lust or whatever, but it’s strong as hell.”

Hawkeye felt a lump in his throat, his mouth feeling dry now, even with the alcohol he was downing. He leaned forward, facing Trapper. A part of him felt validated and excited, thrilled that this wasn’t as one-sided as Trapper had let on before. Then there was another part of him that felt dread.

“Oh… but, your wife? Louise? She won’t like this, us… will she?”

Trapper took another drink. “I’m not plannin’ on tellin’ her about us. There’s too many people back home that wouldn’t like it if they knew. I’m not really in the mood to be ostracized by my whole town. Does your father know? About you?”

Hawkeye didn’t know what answer he had expected from Trapper but it hurt to hear his answer aloud. Not telling was almost as bad as confessing the truth, if not worse. He was just going to be a well-kept secret.

“He knows about the women but… I haven’t told him the whole story yet.”

Trapper met his eyes. “Are you plannin’ to?”

Hawkeye took a shaky breath and swallowed hard. “I don’t know. He’s… an accepting person. He just wants me to be happy and I feel if I told him the truth, it’d be all right.”

“And if it’s not, you’ll be ostracized too,” Trapper remarked.

Hawkeye clenched his jaw, knowing that this was the worst case scenario. He’d lose all his patients back home… it felt worse, though, at the thought of losing his own father, the man who he wrote home to as much as humanly possible and the same man who wrote back, giving him advice on his problems.

“So this is going to be our big secret, huh?”

Trapper looked down at his drink. “You know it has to be a secret, Hawk. At least for now. You’ve seen what happened to George Weston when his Army buddies found out about him? It’s just not the right time in history right now.”

Hawkeye looked at him self-deprecatingly. “I wasn’t going to shout it from the rooftops or anything but it would have been nice to be able to openly do couple things with you occasionally around the camp.”

Trapper sighed and gave a half smile. “I know, I agree with you, Hawk. It’s just… complicated right now. I love ya but I’m also not gonna ruin my marriage with my wife for you either. I have to think of the girls right now.”

This conversation had taken a hard left turn and ended up in a car fire. Hawkeye no longer wanted to talk about this, or his wife. He was starting to feel anger at Trapper and even his wife that he always brought into their conversations like these. It hurt, deep inside him. It cut him like shrapnel, threatening to make him bleed out. Hawkeye despised how it made him feel but he also couldn’t control it.

“Yeah, the girls. How could I forget about them? You always talk about them and your wife, every chance you get. I feel like I know them personally!” Hawkeye shook his head at himself; he knew how selfish he sounded.

“If I have to hear about any of them, I might go AWOL and walk into a minefield.”

Trapper scoffed, finishing off his drink. “Oh c’mon, Hawk. You don’t mean that! And how can I not mention them? I married her and we had children! That’s what you do…”

Hawkeye shook his head and smirked without humor. “Not what _I_ do. I’m just a serial dater. I never fully commit.”

“So how do I know you’ll commit to me if you can’t even commit to a woman?”

Hawkeye felt that shrapnel twisting from the inside. He stood up now, unable to continue sitting, feeling antsy. “You don’t even want anything serious with me, Trapper! I confessed my love to you and at the best, you might be in lust with me. I know from experience; that isn’t the same thing.”

“What the hell do you want me to do, Hawk?”

Hawkeye slammed the glass down on the still. “I want you to figure out what it is you feel for me and let me know. I can’t… wait around for you and hope that you’ll feel the same way as I do! I can only hope but I’m not holding my breath either… anyway, it’s doomed from the start so we just… shouldn’t even bother.”

He regretted the words as soon as he spoke them. He wanted more than anything to take them back. Hawkeye didn’t want to be a homewrecker either, though.

Trapper scoffed again and finished his drink before he set his own glass near the still. “I’m willing to do this with you and you suddenly don’t want to? Make your mind up here, will ya? I’m getting whiplash from your inability to commit to anything!”

Hawkeye swallowed hard and groaned. This wasn’t going well and the two of them were too tired to be having this conversation. It was making both of them lose their tempers and their patience. They should have waited until morning.

“I-I want to, damn it! I want to do things with you… but…” Hawkeye shook his head. “I don’t feel good about it. I can sleep around with women and not feel guilty because I don’t have anyone at back home. You do, and… it’s not her fault the way we feel about each other. If anyone is getting whiplash around here over this, it’s me! First you tell me that you can’t do this because of her and your two daughters and then next moment you’re telling me you have no problem doing it in secret!”

“I’m tryin’ to compromise with you! I don’t… I don’t wanna lose you.”

Hawkeye wet his lips, feeling conflicted and torn. “I love you, Trap, but I’m not going to destroy your marriage, even if you’re willing to. She’s an innocent party in all this and… I can’t do that to her. You won’t lose me. We can still… be friends but maybe it’s just not meant to be.”

“Jesus, Hawkeye…” Trapper shook his head, looking like he might start crying. “I’m the one who’s supposed to tell you that. Why are you being the adult this time? I’m the one with the wife and kids.”

He shrugged, feeling warm tears in his eyes. He turned away from his friend so Trapper wouldn’t see them. “Someone has to be the adult in all this,”

He lay on his cot and turned his back to Trapper. “I’m beat. Let’s turn in.”

“Yeah,” Trapper reluctantly agreed. “Sure. ‘Night, Hawk.”

Hawkeye hated to leave their conversation like this but it would just be worse if he saw him crying. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to stop it either once he started. He shut off his light after hearing Trapper click his own light off.

“Night, Trap.”


	8. Gone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> . ....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fear not, I haven't abandoned this fic. I'm back!

**.   .   .**

Hawkeye woke up the next morning to a headache and dry tears on his face. He knew that both he and Trapper were making things more complicated than they had to be, but he also knew that you can’t help who you love.

He glanced over at his friend’s cot and once again, didn’t see him in it. Maybe Hawkeye was sleeping too much; he should be up early, checking on his patients. He cared about them just as much as Trapper did, so why didn’t he do the same routine?

He pulled himself out of bed and felt better at the sight of Frank Burns still sleeping in his own cot, oblivious to the world. Hawkeye got dressed and headed over to Post-Op but he didn’t see McIntyre anywhere. After making sure his patients were still breathing and doing okay, he realized that one of them was missing from his bed.

“Bigelow! Is Claude Rains in that bed or is one sleepwalking somewhere?”

Nurse Bigelow came over to him and grabbed the chart. When her worried eyes met Hawkeye’s, he got a sinking feeling in his stomach.

“Oh god… no. Where’s Trapper?”

She shrugged helplessly. “Check the scrub room…?”

Hawkeye rushed past her and headed towards the scrub room where Trapper would be if he had to do an operation. Sure enough, he recognized his friends back as it sunk over the sink and then saw the state of the room; the scrubs bin was knocked over, the mirror was cracked as if it had been punched, and soap was everywhere.

“What happened?”

“What always happens ‘round here…” McIntyre answered solemnly, his voice raspy, as if he had been crying.

“I’m so sorry, Trap,” Hawkeye spoke again, quietly, walking towards the other man. “Who was it?”

Trapper sniffled and let out a cough before he took a deep breath and let it out again. “That kid with the several pounds of lead in his belly. We- no, I missed some. I missed two half shells that were still causing internal bleeding.”

Hawkeye swallowed hard. “I missed it too, Trap. Why wasn’t I called in to help?”

Trap gave a dismissive wave. “It was too late. By the time I got to him… he just… bled out inside and…” he trailed off, a true sign that he was hurting.

“It wasn’t your fault. We both worked on him together, even with Frank. The three of us couldn’t get it all, you know? There was just too much.”

Hawkeye had heard a similar speech given to him by Henry before when someone had died on his watch and even though he didn’t truly believe it at the time, he knew that he had been right. Kids died, and doctors couldn’t do anything to fix it all the time.

“Yeah,” Trapper answered simply, shaking his head.

“Let me fix your hand before I get stuck as the only decent surgeon around here and they ship you back home. Sit down.”

The other man didn’t fight it, and sat down in a nearby chair, offering his bloody hand to Hawkeye. He stuck his hand under the sink first to clean it out before he patted it dry and grabbed the tweezers, taking out the smaller pieces of glass that were still embedded in his friend’s skin. As he did this and started to sew the deeper cuts, he casually caressed his wrist that was holding the hand up.

It wasn’t a lot but it was better than nothing. At least they could sort of show affection when no one else was looking, and from an outsider standpoint, this looked innocent.

Trapper was quiet for a few minutes as Pierce worked. “I really thought I got it all, Hawk.”

“I know. It’s an easy mistake. It’s awful, but you need to forgive yourself for it and move on. Everyone knows you’re still a damn fine surgeon.”

Trapper sighed and shook his head, Hawkeye noticing how red his eyes were. “I’m sorry, Hawkeye…”

He didn’t even need to ask what for. He knew.

“Me too. It was a rough night for both of us,” Hawkeye whispered. “We were both tired.”

Trapper nodded in agreement.

The two men were quiet as Hawkeye wrapped the gauze up around his injured hand and then when he finished, he reluctantly let go of Trapper’s wrist.

“All set. Think you’ll still be able to operate with that hand?”

“Like I have a choice? We can’t let Frank operate or else the patient will be a goner for sure.”

Hawkeye smirked and nodded in agreement before he caressed Trapper’s shoulder encouragingly. He was about to lead him back out when he felt Trapper grab his arm and pull him back inside quickly and then felt warm lips on his.

The two men kissed for several moments when Hawkeye’s better instincts kicked in and smiled before gently pulling back.

“Don’t get me wrong, Mr. McIntyre, but we run a pretty big risk here of running into the enemy. It’s an open minefield around here.”

Trapper nodded, understanding the code and how delicate their situation was. Getting caught was the last thing either of them wanted or needed and it also wasn’t the worth the risk. Seeing Trapper’s state still, Hawkeye got the unnerving feeling that the other man had done that because he was feeling bad and he wanted to feel better than he was.

If that was how this was going to be, Hawkeye felt conflicted feelings about that. He didn’t want to be used, but on the other hand, it might be the only affection he would get from the doctor. Was this just about using each other?

“I-I’m… going to grab some coffee. Wanna join me?”

Hawkeye nodded. “Yeah, sure.”

The two men headed on over to the mess tent where only a few people here and here were sipping their Army coffee or trying to disgust the slop that passed for food around here. They found a table together and sat next to each other, their hands both around a mug of coffee.

The heat felt nice in the cool early morning. It felt comforting.

“Mail call!” a familiar voice echoed in the tent. No one stood up in their tired state so Radar walked over and personally delivered.

“Mail for you sirs. One for you, Hawkeye,” Radar announced as he held a letter out and then pulled out another letter and held it out for Trapper. “And one for you. It’s from your wife, I think.”

Pierce tried to busy himself opening up his own letter from his father as Trapper grabbed the letter from Radar.

“You fink, did you peek inside too?”

“I would never peek at your wife, sir…” Radar fumbled before making himself scarce and moving over to the next table.

Trapper shook his head as he opened the letter and read it quickly. He had become so quiet that Hawkeye wondered how long it was. He glanced over and saw Trapper’s already solemn express fall more. He knew those looks.

“A Dear John letter, John?”

Trapper swallowed the lump in his throat and he looked up at Hawkeye with helpless eyes, tears at the edges. “S-She… says she needs to move o-on with her life…. T-that she can’t wait for me to come home, literally.”

“Can I see?”

Trapper threw the letter down in front of Hawkeye. “Oh yeah, sure! I bet you just love this… this has to be your greatest dream ever, Hawk!”

He ignored the words that his friend had tried to cut him deep with. He knew that Trapper was just speaking out of frustration and anger. This had to be his worst day ever here.

As Hawkeye read the letter, it seemed like Trapper’s wife was serious about this, getting a divorce. He didn’t know what to say.

“Not to sound like a broken record but I’m sorry, Trap,” Hawkeye replied, handing the letter back to him before he sipped his coffee again.

Sure, Hawkeye had been sick of hearing about Trapper’s wife and kids all the time and being reminded of them but they were what made his friend happy; they were something good to come back home to, and now he didn’t really have that.

“Yeah, me too. Jesus… this is just… I can’t believe this! I’ve been giving her a good chunk of my money that I’ve been getting paid to stay here in this… this Hell hole and this is how she repays me! She hooks up with my best friend back home!”

Hawkeye didn’t know what to say to him so he kept quiet. He wasn’t experienced in Dear John letters; he had only seen facial reactions from others who had received them. Some people cried. Some people just tore them up and threw the shreds into a fire, and others just went on with their lives until they found someone else.

Trapper still held his in his hands, barely believing what was written on the paper. His face was pale and he looked like he just wanted to explode.

“At least you still get to see your daughters,” Hawkeye tried helpfully.

Trapper nodded before he scoffed. “Yeah, every other weekend when I get back! Who knows when that’s gonna be, though! I could be stuck here for years while they’re growing up without their father…”

Hawkeye placed a hand on Trapper’s shoulder comfortingly, trying to make it look as casual as possible. “You know that this isn’t my area of expertise. I don’t know what to say or do here, Trap.”

His friend nodded and seemed to relax at his touch.

“Offer me a drink?”

Hawkeye gently squeezed his friend’s shoulder.  “Would you like to go to Rosie’s for a drink, Trap?”

He nodded before he folded up the piece of paper and stuffed it in his jacket pocket and stood up. “Yeah, that’d be great.”

 

**.  .   .   .  .   .   .   .**

Hawkeye sat across from Trapper as they drank beers at 8 a.m. that morning. The former had only had one but the latter had finished his third by the time the first was gone.

“Easy, Trap. You still have all day to get drunk.”

Trapper smirked and shook his head. “I’m just gonna sit over here and get smashed until everything doesn’t matter anymore.”

Hawkeye looked down at his bottle and sighed.

“No amount of alcohol is going to make any difference. That letter will still read what it read, and you’ll just be hungover tomorrow.”

“Maybe, but I’ll feel good for now at least.”

Hawkeye leaned back in his seat and called Rosie over before ordering two more beers. When she set them down and then left again, Hawkeye eyed Trapper.

“You know we can’t stay here and get drunk all day, Trap. We’ll probably have casualties today and you’re my only good hand,” Hawkeye tried to talk sense into him.

The other man was already shaking his head.

“No, don’t do that, Hawk. Just… let me have this. No offense but you don’t know what it’s like to have a family and then receive a Dear John letter. You probably never will. You can’t even commit to one person for the rest of your life.”

Hawkeye clenched his jaw, trying not to lose his temper again. He knew Trapper was speaking out of anger again but he was also close to crossing a line.

“Hey, pal,” he started in. “I may not know what it’s like to be married to someone but in case you need a reminder, your wife that you married can’t commit to you either!”

Trapper wasn’t even drunk yet but his face looked flush. Trapper looked angry, his jaw clenching now. “Watch the next words that come out of your mouth, Hawk. They could be your last.”

Hawkeye tongued his cheek and shook his head.

“What are we even doing right now, Trapper? Feeling sorry for yourself? What is this?” He threw his arms up in the air before he stood up. “It’s too early! We need to go back.”

He reached for Trappers arm but then was shoved back into his seat. “No, Hawkeye! _You_ go back! I’m stayin’ right here until I can’t feel my face anymore.”

“What about your patients in Post-Op? Should I just tell them that you’re not there because you wanted to have a few belts? Oh no, I’m sure they’ll understand.”

Trapper glared at him now as he took a long pull from his beer. “I already killed one, what difference does it make anymore?”

Hawkeye felt so disgusted. He sighed and stood up. “I felt bad for you for the first half hour but… you can’t do this here, with a war on. There are people who depend on you. _I_ depend on you. Feeling sorry for yourself doesn’t change a thing, and if it did, we’d all be home by now.”

He set his beer in front of Trapper to add to his pile. “Let me know once you’re sobered up and you’re ready to be a decent human being again. I’ll be taking care of your patients.”

He walked out of Rosie’s with a heavy conscious but knew in reality he couldn’t spend all day there. There seemed to be casualties every day lately and he didn’t want to risk letting them die because he was getting drunk with a friend. He felt for Trapper, he did, but when it all came down to it at the end of the day, he knew that he had a job to do and he had to do it, drafted or not. He cared about his patients and every kid that was laid on his table.

When he arrived back to camp, he walked over to Klinger. “Hey, do me a favor and make sure that Trapper gets back from Rosie’s all right?”

“What’s in it for me?”

Hawkeye didn’t have the patience today to be kind. “How about you get to keep your nose where it is?”

Corporal Klinger saluted him. “Sounds good, sir!”

Hawkeye watched as he left and then started walking towards the Swamp when the annoying P.A. came on.

_“Casualties arriving in ten minutes! Repeat! Casualties are on their way!”_

He groaned now and looked up at the sky in rhetorical frustration. He sighed heavily and then started towards the OR to scrub up. He was met with Colonel Blake who was already in there, doing the same.

“Does this war ever go on break?”

Blake didn’t seem amused.

“Don’t you know? It’s on repeat, 24/7! Where’s McIntyre?”

Hawkeye hesitated and shook his head. “He’s not going to be able to do this dance.”

“Where _is_ he, Pierce? Go get him! We need all hands on deck!”

Hawkeye started washing his fingers, hands and arms. “He’s at Rosie’s. He just got a Dear John letter at breakfast.”

Henry’s face fell a little but there was no time to be overly sympathetic. They were about to go into a bloodbath. “That’s terrible, but we could really use the extra help…”

“I know! I already told him something like this would happen. He’s in it for the long run today. He won’t listen to reason! What do you want me to do, Henry? Call his wife up and tell her to apologize and make up?”

“Yeah, yeah. I get it. We’re going to be in it for the long haul today…”

“You’re telling me. I’ll be performing surgery for two.”

Blake scrubbed up and then hurried into the OR. Hawkeye felt so angry; he got what he wanted but Trapper was just the worse for it. He was unfit to operate by now and Hawkeye was left holding the bag. He would have to do double the work. He lifted his arm up to punch the sink but then stopped himself within seconds, knowing what that would entail.

He’d be left with a broken hand and then _he_ wouldn’t be able to operate. He couldn’t take his anger out on the innocent kids that should be going to see movies with their sweethearts instead of fighting in a war.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, counting backwards from ten, thinking of all the good reasons why Trapper was his friend and the little things that made Hawkeye love him. When he was calm and collected again, he let the nurses come in and help him with his scrubs before he headed into the operating room to do the only thing he seemed best at: saving lives.


	9. Moving On

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ........

**.     .    .**

“Is there anything I can get you, doctor?”

Hawkeye was operating in a haze. He was on his eleventh straight hour of surgery and was dead tired, almost robotically performing surgeries he’d done at least a thousand times before.

“Don’t suppose I could suggest getting me amphetamines to help me stay awake?” Hawkeye half-joked. He knew that a lot of the doctors used a low dosage of amphetamines to help stay awake while they performed surgery but he couldn’t.

Even a low dosage made his hands shake; he barely had a decent caffeine tolerance. He didn’t want to risk his patients’ lives because of a stupid drug.

“Pierce, trade off with McIntyre. He’s had long enough to sleep the booze off. Go and retrieve him, on the double,” Blake ordered as he continued to operate.

Hawkeye looked up at him with partially grateful eyes but he felt a personal responsibility to every kid that came in here.

“I was just kidding, Henry. I can do a few more.”

“I’m serious, Pierce!” Henry ordered a bit more firmly this time. “Go out and tell your better half to come in!”

At this point, he knew it was pointless to argue with him. Anyway, he could use the sleep. He washed up quickly and took off his gown but kept his scrub pants on as he hurriedly trudged back to the Swamp and saw Trapper, sleeping soundly in his cot.

He knelt down and ran a hand over his own tired face before he sighed and gently shook Trapper.

“Hey! Hey, Trap… come on, time to wake up…”

“Hmm?” He jolted awake and then relaxed again when his eyes rested on his friend. “What’s the big idea, Hawk? Wake me up again when the war’s over, will ya?”

He turned over to fall back asleep but Hawkeye shook him again before he stood up.

“Pardon my interruption but it’s your turn at the lead factory! You need to go and set up shop!”

Trapper didn’t turn to face him. “Oh go and stuff yourself, Hawk. I have a hangover that could kill two Radars.”

Hawkeye loved this man but between his exhaustion and his weariness of seeing so many young people ripped open by bullets and bombs, he was quickly losing patience.

He shook Trapper harder, this time forcefully turning him over to face him. “I’m serious! I’m here on Henry’s orders! Pull yourself together and get in there, Trap!”

It was a good thing that Frank was already in the OR or else their arguing would have woken him.

Trapper cringed as Hawkeye yelled but upon hearing the last command, he seemed to change drastically. He stood up and squared off with the raven-haired doctor.

“Pull myself together’? I’m going to pretend I didn’t just hear that from you, the King of Martini-Swizzling! I know this is difficult to understand but my wife of six years just decided to divorce me and give me partial custody of my girls! Forgive me if I’m not ready to dance my way back into surgery yet!”

Hawkeye sighed again and shook his head, his lips pressed into an almost painful grimace. He knew this wasn’t going to be easy but he didn’t need to be reminded that he would always come second either.

“I don’t care if you do the Charleston into the operating room! You’re needed so forget about your wife and scrub up!”

Trapper ran his fingers through his hair and when he looked at Hawkeye again, there were tears in his eyes and he looked deflated.

“How? How can I do this, Hawk? My life just… blew up and I’m catchin’ the shrapnel from it in every direction.”

Hawkeye looked at him tiredly. “Really? We don’t have enough war puns around here that you have to go and add them to your life back home?”

He had said it in light-heartedness, the fight gone upon seeing Trapper’s tears. The other man just shrugged weakly.

“It’s a good comparison, what can I say?”

Hawkeye walked over to him and wrapped his arm around Trapper’s shoulder, holding him close, feeling Trapper cave and lean into him.

“H-How do I do this, Hawkeye…?”

The other doctor felt weak as Trapper gave into the hug and leaned on him. Hawkeye held him up easily as he leaned in and gently kissed his friend’s temple before resting his forehead against his.

“It’s not going to be easy, Trap, but just think about those boys in there that have it worse than you. They’re on their deathbeds, and their wives and girlfriends may not even see them again if there’s no one there to operate on them, patch them up,” Hawkeye spoke softly.

“Come with me?” Trapper asked, almost in a pleading whisper.

“Sorry, Henry’ banned me. I’ve already performed surgery longer than he likes and I can barely see straight right now. It’s going to have to be you and Burns. I’ll take over for you later, though. Deal?”

Trapper still looked sad, but he nodded before he forced himself to stand up straight and started to get changed. “I’m gonna hold you to that, ya know.”

“Good. Try and not to kill Ferret Face,” Hawkeye sleepily smirked. “He’s one of the only other decent surgeons around here, after us and Henry.”

Trapper let out a weak chuckle now and nodded. “I’ll try. No promises.”

Hawkeye fell onto his cot and looked up at Trapper, his eyelids heavy. “See you later, alligator.”

“In a while, crocodile…”

 

**.   .    .    .   .   .   .**

Hawkeye had gotten a good seven hours of sleep before he heard Trapper’s voice and felt someone shaking him now.

“C’mon, Hawk. You promised,” Trapper sounded tired but he didn’t sound as angry as he had been earlier. Maybe he was too tired to be angry.

Hawkeye stretched and smiled mischievously when he opened his eyes and saw him.

“Are your parents coming home soon? How much time do we have?”

Trapper smirked playfully.

“They’re too busy performing hands on examinations with each other. I’m too tired to do anything. You’ll have to do all the work, darling,” Trapper yawned as he fell into his own cot but sat up before filling up a martini glass with gin.

Hawkeye sat up and rubbed his eyes before he watched his friend carefully. “That bad?”

Trapper shrugged. “There’s no more casualties expected for a while. I’m just pickin’ up where I left off last night.”

Hawkeye looked aghast. “You woke me up to watch you chug gin?”

“I wanted to talk to you while Frank wasn’t here to ruin our day! It’d be nice to have _someone_ I can count on…”

Pierce sighed but didn’t feel genuinely angry at him. “Is this what you’re going to do now, get bombed before and after surgery? Isn’t that what the other side is for, to bomb us themselves?”

Trapper shrugged before he set his glass down.

“You’re actin’ all holier-than-thou now? I hate to break it to you, Hawk, but you’re not exactly a saint either!”

“I never said I was, Trap. I just think you might be taking it too far this time,” Hawkeye answered with concern, eyeing his friend. “I know this place is bad, but drinking to excess will just make more problems for you.”

Trapper moved over to Hawkeye’s bed and sat down beside him, leaning against him. “I’m sorry, about earlier. I know it’s not your fault Louise is leavin’ me. I didn’t mean to take it out on you.”

“I know,” Hawkeye accepted feebly, looking down at his slender fingers.

Trapper gently nudged Hawkeye’s shoulder. “I mean it, you know. I’m not just blowing smoke.”

“Good because I never could really get into the habit. Didn’t you just get off of a shift?” Hawkeye grabbed his arm and lightly shoved him onto his own cot. “You need to count your sheep for a few hours!”

Trapper laughed and looked up at him, his head now on the pillow. “What’re you going to do in the meantime?”

Hawkeye smirked. “Well, against my better judgement, I figure I’d check on my patients and head to the mess tent for some coffee. Get some shut-eye, Trap. We can hang out later.”

Trapper didn’t look like he was about to argue but Hawkeye saw the sadness come over his face again, the smirk fading.

“Why do they do this, Hawk?” he asked sleepily, solemnly.

Hawkeye searched his face. “Why do who do what?”

“Women… they write all of us Dear John letters because we were drafted in a war we had no say over? I wouldn’t have come if I had a choice. It’s not fair,” he replied.

Hawkeye felt his heart break a little for his friend. He knew it wasn’t fair. None of this situation they were all in together was fair. If he had it his way, Hawkeye would beg Truman, on his knees if he had to, to end this war and let everyone go back home to their significant others and peace and quiet.

He looked at Trapper with sympathetic eyes and tried to make his face look reassuring but he doubted it did. “Just sleep, Trap. You’ll feel better when you wake up.”

His friend looked doubtful but quickly fell asleep anyway, leaving Hawkeye to head back to Post-Op to check up on his patients. He wanted to give Trapper a good explanation as to why it happened to doctors, nurses, and enlisted personal alike. No one was excluded from the dreaded Dear John (or Joan, if you were a woman).

He couldn’t give him the answer Trapper was looking for, though, because there wasn’t no good answer. It was just something that _happened_ and just _was_ … like powdered eggs or Spam.

Hawkeye trudged into the Post-Op where most of the patients lay awake, only a few of them seemingly sleeping peacefully on their cots. He moved over to one of the patients he had operated on while Trapper had been either loaded or passed out.

He grabbed his chart from off the bed. “How are you feeling, Davis?”

The man who couldn’t be any older than twenty-three barely glanced up at Hawkeye. “You should’ve let me die on that operating table, sir.”

Pierce felt a dagger in his chest, followed by a sharp chill he always felt with patients like these. All his stats looked normal, or at least out of the danger zone. He looked at him.

“Sorry, pal. I could get court-martialed for that. I have to at least put forth an effort to save your life. Would you like to talk to our camp priest?” Hawkeye suggested, not unkindly.

Davis shook his head. “No, sir. I don’t think he’d forgive me for what I want to do…”

Hawkeye let out a shaky breath and sat down beside his bed, setting the clipboard on his lap. “We get a lot of kids like you who don’t want to go back to the fighting and would rather die. Breaks my heart. You have so much to live for but you don’t want to live.”

“Excuse me, sir, but it’s hard to want to live with all the shelling around you, afraid that someone’s going to come around at night and slit your throat in your sleep, bombs going off at any given moment… it’s hard to be optimistic.”

Hawkeye chewed on his lips, thinking of Wilkins. “I’m going to tell you what I tell myself every day when I wake up. This is only temporary, this whole… Army thing. The war can’t last forever, and once it’s over, you get to go back home again, live as normal a life as you can. This is just a blip in your long life timeline. We hear the shelling over here too, Davis. It’s not a cake walk for us either.”

He seemed to take this in and nodded, his body appearing to relax slightly.

“Stick around a bit longer, Private,” Hawkeye stood up and glanced down at him. “You have to see how this thing’s gonna end.”

He looked like he wanted to say something but decided to keep it to himself instead. Hawkeye walked over to Nurse Bigelow and brought his voice down to a whisper.

“Have someone keep a watch on Private Davis. He might try to check out early.”

Bigelow nodded obediently. “Of course, doctor.”

Hawkeye could feel the barrier of awkwardness between them. He hadn’t forgotten about his promise to do a night of heavy breathing exercises with her in the supply closet and he had either gotten sidetracked or been too occupied with Trapper to remember their dates.

“What do you say we go listen to a baseball game later and see if we can’t make it to third base?” Hawkeye only half-attempted to flirt.

She gave him a disappointed look and shook her head but was smirking. “Sorry, doc. You’ve already struck out three times with me. What about our dates we had planned?”

She was looking genuinely upset now.

Hawkeye threw his hands up in an innocent gesture. “I’m sorry! I’ve been busy… it’s not like we’re not in the middle of a war here! We need to ration all we can.”

“I suppose that means warmth too?”

Hawkeye was low-key feeling frustrated with this woman. He had felt feelings for her at one point, and perhaps they were still there, but they were hiding under the surface now. She was just looking for one thing and it was at this moment that he felt what possibly all the other women he had been with before had felt towards him.

“You nurses are all the same!” He dramatically exclaimed before disappearing over to another patient and felt a bit more at ease when he was able to go through the typical post-surgery questions.

He did this for about ten minutes before he finally headed over to the mess tent, feeling wiped out just by being around the injured. He didn’t forget about how he felt about having to take over surgery without Trapper but he was too emotionally exhausted to let himself feel angry about it again.

It was easier to take a deep breath, think about the good, and move on. Always moving on.


	10. Some Fun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> .....

**.     .     .**

  
Hawkeye was reading in the mess tent as he drank his coffee as Radar talked to Colonel Blake, who looked as exhausted he felt, both sat at a table across from him.

It was the evening but the air still felt hot and humid, sweat beading his face and matting his hair. As uncomfortable as he was, he didn’t want to move around any until he heard a voice.

“What time is it?” A tired Trapper sat down next to him, rubbing his face with his hands.

“Around seven,” Hawkeye answered. “How was your nap?”

“I could’ve slept the whole war away. What’re you readin’?”

Hawkeye showed him the cover of the book he had received from his father last mail call, continuing to read the last line on the page before he finally put it down.

“ _The Weary Blues,_ Langston Hughes,” Trapper read aloud. “Didn’t take you for the poetry readin’ type.”

Hawkeye smirked, shrugging. “He’s a man after my own heart.”

Trapper smirked weakly back before he sighed and stood back up. “I’m gonna get some coffee, or at least what this Army keeps telling me is coffee. I’ll be back.”

Hawkeye watched as his friend walked over to the coffee machine near Igor before he filled his cup up and sat back down beside the other surgeon. He took a sip of his coffee, looking almost dazed.

“How you doing, Trap?” Hawkeye asked gentle, searching his face.

Trapper shrugged and sighed. “I don’t know. A part of me feels like this is my karma, you know? For sleeping with all those other women in camp while I was still with Louise, but another part of me feels… relieved. It’s sick but… it never felt right, getting’ married. We only got married because she was pregnant with our oldest daughter, so it seemed like the right thing to do.”

Hawkeye took another drink of his coffee, never taking his eyes off of Trapper.

“At the time, it _was_ the right thing to do. People change, Trap,” Hawkeye shrugged. “It happens. Feelings change…”

Trapper seemed to have moved a bit closer to him now and Hawkeye was glad it was just their other two friends in the mess tent at the moment. He didn’t notice it before but as his friend moved in towards him, it was evident Trapper had taken a quick shower before he had come in here; he smelled fresh, clean.

“Do you still feel the same way about me like you said you did before?” Trapper whispered.

Hawkeye swallowed hard, feeling a lump in his throat. He didn’t know why he let himself feel like this; he knew it would only end in disaster.

“Yeah, I still do…”

Trapper nodded in acknowledgement but there was something else in his eyes, a kind of sad desperation as well.

“L-Let’s… let’s do this, Hawk…”

Hawkeye got a sinking feeling in his stomach. “I’m sorry, do what, exactly?” He glanced around to see other people starting to come in.

“You know, us. Let’s try it, and see where it goes…”

Hawkeye ran a frustrated hand through his hair. “You’re… you. You aren’t –"

Trapper scoffed and shrugged, still keeping his voice low. “I told you before I was feelin’ something strong as hell for you. I don’t know what the hell I am, Hawkeye. I’m not lookin’ to put a label on me just yet so… let’s just… have some fun?”

Hawkeye Pierce was feeling conflicted. He loved this man, truly loved him, to the point where he would jump on a live grenade and throw himself into the minefield for him. He could handle Trapper not feeling the same way back, but the fact that he wanted to “have some fun” hurt. Hawkeye wasn’t just playing around. He wanted to love him like he deserved to be loved, but even that wasn’t a possibility. His friend was feeling sad and hurt because of his now ex-wife, and Hawkeye was his rebound.

He searched his friend’s face. If this was all he could get from Trapper, then maybe that would have to be enough, even if it hurt him. If it hurt too much, then Hawkeye internally promised himself that he would put an end to it. If nothing else, at least Trapper would be able to find out who he was, _what_ he was.

Hawkeye rested his head in his hand as his arm rested on the table now, trying to make this conversation look as nonchalant and innocent as possible.

“Okay, fine,” Hawkeye gave in, but put on a small smile.

Trapper gave him a pointed look. “‘Fine?’ Well geez, I don’t mean to put you out or anythin’!”

Hawkeye chuckled to ease the situation.

“No, seriously. It’s fine. I’m on board. I’ve always been a good teacher,” he smirked. “You’ll feel like you’re bad in med school learning anatomy.”

Trapper also laughed. “Great, hope I don’t have any homework.”

“Don’t worry, it’ll be a gas.”

Trapper nodded and then shook his head. “Great, so when do we start, doctor?”

Hawkeye thought for a moment. “It’s Tuesday. Every Tuesday, Henry assigns tasks to each of us, right?” When his friend nodded, he continued. “Well, let’s go sit with him and plan out the day, shall we?”

Trapper sighed and stood up with his coffee before he led his friend over to where Henry was sitting. Hawkeye sat between Radar and Trapper, and Margaret sat beside Henry, next to Frank, of course.

“Radar, take the minutes, please?” Henry started.

“Yes, sir.”

“Let’s start by taking attendance.”

Hawkeye rolled his eyes. “C’mon, Henry. We’re all attending this meeting right now. We’re all here. Write that down, Radar,” he instructed, tapping on Radar’s notepad.

“Steady, Pierce. We’ll just get right down to the dirty, then. I’ll begin by assigning everyone your daily tasks for the week. Radar, you’ll… keep doing what you’re doing,”

“Thank you, sir.”

“Majors Houllihan and Burns, you’ll both be checking supplies in the supply closet this week,” Henry instructed, taking a drink of his coffee.

Both Majors instantly went almost crimson, as if they had been caught red-headed by the Colonel. This amused Hawkeye but he decided to play nice.

“Henry, why don’t you let me and Trapper do that boring job?”

The Colonel looked aghast. “Err… why do you two want to count supplies?”

Hawkeye looked over at Trapper for assistance now.

Trapper shrugged and cleared his throat before he looked at Radar. “Radar, what’s the last job?”

Radar looked down at his piece of paper. “Umm… it’s cleaning OR.”

Trapper slapped the table and snapped his fingers before pointing to Henry. “That’s why, to get out of doing that. I’d rather be counting tongue depressors and syringes than scrubbing floors.”

“Now wait just a second,” Burns interjected. “Scrubbing floors isn’t a job for Majors! Shouldn’t Corporals and Captains be the ones on their knees?”

Hawkeye had to bite his lip to keep himself from telling a crude joke in front of Margaret. It’d be in bad taste anyway and it was a joke that he’d probably only tell Trapper in private but when he glanced over at him, it was clear that his friend was thinking the same thing.

Henry sighed. “We all have to pitch in, Frank. Anyway, I already assigned jobs to Klinger and Radar! Just bite the bullet and do what you’re told… please.”

Margaret was huffing and puffing but she took a deep breath and whispered something to Frank before Frank’s whole face changed shape and color and a smile appeared on his face.

“Well, maybe we can make an exception this time…”

“Of course we can. Come on, Frank. We don’t have much time before more casualties roll in.” She started towards the OR building, Burns soon following not far behind her.

Hawkeye looked at Henry. “That was very big of you to do that, Henry.”

Blake rolled his eyes. “I figure you guys are in there enough as it is. You should only be in there when you’re doing surgery.”

It was admirable of Henry to do that for him and Trapper. He always was a good guy. He wasn’t as GI as Margaret, Frank, or any Majors who liked to throw their weight around Korea.

“Well, drinking this coffee makes me want to go work instead,” Trapper said smoothly. “Maybe we can find some real coffee in the supply room.”

Hawkeye took the hint and nodded before he stood up as well. “After you, Maxwell.”

“Why, thank you, Sanka*.”

The two men headed towards the supply room, well aware that they would be somewhat in the same vicinity as the two Majors, but this didn’t really matter. All Hawkeye could think about was the ability to be close to Trapper, at last.

“Nervous?”

Trapper chuckled. “What do I have to be nervous about?” He asked jokingly, making sure they were out of earshot of anyone else. “I’m only gonna be makin’ out with my bunkie and best friend. Why should I be nervous?”

Hawkeye led him into the supply room and closed the door behind them, smirking when he turned to face Trapper. The two men were inches apart.

“Don’t worry, I’m well practiced.”

Trapper smirked back, scoffing. “I’m sure you are.”

Hawkeye took his hand, which felt warm and welcoming, towards the back of the building where even if someone did come in, they would have time to separate themselves and look natural. He placed his hands on Trapper’s waist and gently guided him so his friend’s back was against the supply boxes and he was in front of him, having control of the situation.

“We can stop whenever you want. Just tell me when you want to, and I will.”

“Enough talking,” Trapper insisted softly before he placed his shaking hands on Hawkeye’s waist now, searching his fellow doctor’s eyes.

Hawkeye felt like his heart was going to beat out of his chest with anticipation. He wasn’t scared, but he’d been wanting to do this for the longest time, and never thought he’d actually get the chance.

He moved in closer and finally pressed his lips to Trapper’s, tasting the stale coffee he had drank moments ago. He felt the other man return the kiss, and move his hands to Hawkeye’s back, gently pulling him in closer.

He kissed Trapper deeper, and then slid his hand under his shirt to feel his skin. He felt Trapper react, almost flinching away at first, but then relaxing again. He redrew his lips and looked at him.

“You still okay?”

Trapper was breathing hard but he nodded. “Y-Yeah… I think s-so…”

“If you’re uncomfortable –"

Trapper smiled. “I’m okay, Hawk. C’mere,” he wrapped one hand around Hawkeye’s neck and made their lips touch again.

Hawkeye could feel his body reacting at Trapper’s sudden dominance but didn’t stop him. He was glad it was a dimly lit room and the bulbs hadn’t been changed in a while. He took a shaky breath and he started to kiss down his neck, being careful not to leave any evidence of their secret session.

“Ohhh….” Trapper moaned softly.

Hawkeye half smiled, kissing the nape of his neck and leaned forward to let Trapper feel what he did to him. “Shhh… we have to be quiet, remember?”

Trapper bit his lip as he moaned again, feeling Hawkeye’s presence against him. He seemed to surprise himself and looked at Hawkeye with almost guilt in his eyes but then he closed them before he felt Trapper’s fingers starting to undo his olive green Army fatigues.

Hawkeye saw the look in his eyes and he quickly moved his hands to Trapper’s, stopping him. “H-Hey…” he said, out of breath. “Let’s take five for now, okay? I need a breather…”

Trapper relaxed and dropped his hands, chuckling. “Am I too much for Hawkeye Pierce?”

“I’ve met my match,” Hawkeye bantered with him, grabbing a clipboard to actually start doing what they were supposed to do.

Trapper did the same and glanced over at him. “Was I….?” He trailed off.

“Were you what? Too much for me? Too forward?”

Trapper heisted, a look of fear in his eyes. “Too… too domineering?”

Hawkeye shook his head. “No, and even if you were, I liked it,” he winked playfully at him. “I just don’t want you to do something you’re not ready to do yet, that’s all.”

He started counting the scalpels in the box that was behind Trapper.

Trapper nodded in agreement. “Yeah, me too. You drive me crazy, Hawk. I just wanna… t-to touch every part of you. It’s crazy.”

Hawkeye smiled to himself before he finished counting and wrote the count on the clipboard. He glanced over at him.

“We don’t have to rush this, you know, Trap. Build up is nice too.”

Trapper raised an eyebrow. “Build up with no finishing act? That’s rough. If I knew you’d do this to me, I might have had second thoughts…” He smiled back to let him know he was just kidding.

“Good thing I didn’t tell you about that then, huh?”

Trapper laughed now and shook his head. Then his face grew serious. “Thanks, Hawkeye… for this. Doing this for me…”

Hawkeye forced himself to become serious as well but there was still a trace of a gentle smile on his face.

“Always, Trap.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Sanka is a brand of coffee


	11. Shame

**.      .      .**

“Did you finish?”

Hawkeye was startled as he opened the door outside from the supply room to see Margaret standing there. The choice of words nearly gave Hawkeye a heart attack.

_Oh god. She knew. Did she know? She had to know. This is it. This the end._

“Uh, sorry?” he stammered, needing more time to think.

“Counting supplies!” Margaret answered impatiently. “Have you finished counting the supplies?”

“Oh,” Hawkeye nodded, relaxing again. “Yeah, yeah. All done. Feel free to count them again if you don’t trust my counting.”

Margaret sighed but seemed to also relax. “Are we low on anything important?”

“Isn’t it all important?”

She gave him a firm look. “Captain Pierce…”

“We’re low on gauze but we have plenty of everything else.”

She jotted it down on her clipboard and nodded. “Thank you. Why did you do that earlier? I mean, the real reason? You hate downtime work like that.”

Hawkeye wished Trap was with him to give him emotional encouragement because without it, he just felt drained talking about Army and medical supplies. A part of him regretted letting Trap leave to go talk up nurse Able; okay, the whole part of Hawkeye regretted this, if he was being honest with himself.

“I hate uptime work too. I hate all of it!” He threw his arms up in the air, a half-jesting tone in his voice.  “I just figured I’d rather do mindless counting than actual physical labor. That’s all.”

This seemed to be a good enough answer for Margaret because she just nodded, gave him a calm smile and walked away, her clipboard still in tow.

Hawkeye paused, unsure what to do with himself. Margaret’s appearance earlier had shook him. He hadn’t ever realized the fear of being found out until just now. Would it really be so bad if everyone knew about him?

_Yes, yes it would._

He would either be thrown in the stockade or dishonorably discharged, or both, shunned forever by the habitants of Crabapple Cove.

Against his better judgement, he decided to go to Nurse Able’s tent and knocked on the door. “Room service!” He joked.

“Is Trapper out there with you?”

“Uh… I thought he was in there with _you_?”

The door opened and Hawkeye was greeted with a terse looking young woman. “He’s not with you?”

Hawkeye felt a pull in his stomach. “Uh oh, I think we have an AWOL surgeon. I better go find him. Anything I should know, Able?”

She looked hesitant before she shook her head. “He’ll tell you.”

“Uh huh.” Hawkeye ran a hand through his hair and nodded before he left the tent and headed towards the Swamp, deciding that if something bad had happened, Trapper would either be hitting the still or at Rosie’s for a drink.

Sure enough, he saw Trapper sipping at a martini, looking almost ashamed. As Hawkeye neared, it was evident that he had been drinking for a bit now.

“Doing some day drinking without me, Trap?”

The other man didn’t say anything for a long time before he finally looked up at his friend. “Want one?”

Hawkeye felt tempted but shook his head as he sat across from Trapper. “No, thank you. I ran into Nurse Able and apparently you already ran into her before running out again. Want to tell me what happened?”

He coughed after taking a generous sip of his martini, his eyes cast downward. Hawkeye tried to meet them before he glanced around and leaned forward.

“You can tell me anything, Trap. We’ve been here for a while now. You can trust me, just like I can trust you, right?”

Trapper nodded without hesitance before he also glanced around, almost in paranoid, his eyes finally settling on Hawkeye.

“I couldn’t, Hawk.”

“You…. couldn’t, As in…. the big C?”

“That’d be the one,” Trapper finished his drink in one go before setting it on the still. “I was there, she was there…. she was… beautiful, absolutely gorgeous, ya know? And… I couldn’t. I don’t know what happened! I was ready and the train just… didn’t arrive.”

Hawkeye nodded, understanding what he was talking about. He wet his lips before he looked at him with soft eyes. “It happens to the best of us, Trap, but it’s not permanent. You’re probably just having an off day.”

He shook his head. “No. This doesn’t happen to me! Not me. Never me. I was fine before…” he trailed off, shaking his head.

Hawkeye tensed now. “Before what?”

“Before… you accosted me in the supply room!” He said in a hushed whisper. “I didn’t have this problem until you did that!”

“Now wait a minute, pal, if I remember correctly, that was completely consensual. You had a big part in it too!”

“Well you must have severe memory loss, then!”

Hawkeye smirked humorlessly before he stood up and looked down at him. “This is the alcohol talking. This isn’t you. This isn’t real… I know it isn’t. You wanted to do that too.”

“Yeah, well… maybe it was a mistake.”

Hawkeye felt his heart break a little and he looked at his friend with hurt eyes. “You don’t mean that, Trap.”

Trapper looked almost apologetic before he stood up. “I didn’t have a problem with any of the nurses until we… kissed. This is your fault. You did this to me!”

He swallowed hard, shaking his head. He swallowed back the pain he felt in his chest and felt his own anger sneak up on him.

“Look, it’s not my fault if you’re a little late to the party here! Just because you’re suddenly striking out with the nurses doesn’t mean you can take your frustrations out on me!”

“Forget this, I’m goin’ to Rosie’s for a belt.”

“A belt? You’ve already had enough belts to hang yourself with! I think you should stay here until you’re sober again, or at least enough so that you can operate without sending the patient to the morgue.”

It was strange that the tables were turned; it was usually Trapper telling Hawkeye that he’d have enough to drink.

Trapper started towards the door, ignoring Hawkeye’s comment but the other man quickly put himself in between his friend and the door.

Trapper gave an impatient look. “Move before I send _you_ to the morgue.”

Hawkeye placed two gentle hands on Trapper’s shoulder but to his dismay, the man recoiled away from him, suddenly looking ashamed. He swallowed hard.

“You’re ashamed of what we did… you think kissing me suddenly made you sit on a different side of the fence,” Hawkeye said in realization. “Come on, Trap… this isn’t… this isn’t my fault!”

“I don’t know, Hawk,” Trapper spoke in a softer tone now. “I don’t know what to think anymore! I just… need time.”

“To think.” Hawkeye scratched his chin and sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Right. Well, you know where to find me, then.”

_“Attention, all medical personale! Incoming choppers coming in!”_

Hawkeye cursed everything he could in this moment: the war, himself, Trapper, Crabapple Cove, stigma, the wounded, the snipers, Korea, the U.S. government, guns, bombs, minefields. He kicked his cot and watched it collapse, letting out a yell of frustration.

Trapper watched him and opened the door before looking pointedly at Hawkeye. “Going my way?”

Even in the middle of an argument, they joked with each other. Hawkeye figured that was because both men didn’t like the awkwardness of staying angry with each other. Joking lightened the situation, maybe even helped them bring each other back down to earth, eventually.

Hawkeye walked out and hurried towards Pre-Op to scrub up. He washed his cuticles, fingers, hands, wrists, all the way up to his elbows, trying to focus his mind to the injured young men who were innocent in Trapper and Hawkeye’s fight.

He felt a familiar presence beside him as Trapper started washing up too, and then heard his voice after he cleared his throat.

“You know, those kids in there didn’t do anythin’ to deserve any more pain than they already have. Maybe we should take it easy on them, okay?”

Hawkeye nodded, already knowing this. They might both be frustrated with each other but at least they knew where to draw the line, keeping their anger out of the OR.

“It’s funny how you’re able to read my mind…”

Trapper couldn’t hide the smirk that was curling up the sides of his lips before he scrubbed up and headed into OR, Hawkeye not far behind him.


	12. Give It A Shot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> .......

**.      .     .**

They operated for a good twelve hours straight before they were finally given temporary relief. Hawkeye groaned as he threw his gloves in the disposal and took off the surgical gown.

He leaned backwards, trying to crack his back to ease some of his aching. Hawkeye almost jumped when he felt hands on him, rubbing the sore areas expertly to ease the muscles. Hawkeye glanced back to see a familiar mop of blonde, curly hair.

“I thought you didn’t want anyone else to know about us,” he nearly whispered in the room.

Trapper pressed the heel of his palm between Hawkeye’s shoulders. “There’s no one else around. I figured it’s safe. Anyway, if anyone asks, I’m just practicing what I preach.”

“Well, I’m glad the doctor is in.”

Trapper felt his friend’s muscles loosen a bit and finally stopped but stayed behind him. “I’m sorry, Hawk, about what I said to ya earlier. I’m just… in a bad way right now.”

Hawkeye turned to face him, his eyes tired.

“I get it, Trap. I’m not going to hold anything against you. That is, unless you want me to,” Hawkeye smirked playfully.

Trapper chuckled and gently pushed him away jokingly. “Get outta here. I’m too tired to fight you off.”

Hawkeye smiled and gently nudged his friend but then heard voices coming towards them. He put distance between Trapper now and pretended to be finishing up changing.

“We haven’t done a shift like that for at least a couple weeks!”

“Well here’s hopin’ we won’t have to do another one like that for a couple more weeks,” Colonel Blake’s voice rang out. “My dogs are howlin’.”

“Better keep your dogs inside until you can let them out safely,” Hawkeye replied tiredly, knowing that the jest was weak and only said half-heartedly.

He was too tired to be genuinely funny. He just wanted to see the inside of his eyelids forever. If the others noticed the bad joke, no one said anything, but it didn’t matter to him.

“Why don’t you boys hit the sack? I’d say you both more than earned it.”

“Um, sir?” Radar’s voice broke in hesitantly. “We’re due for more casualties in about an hour.”

Henry slammed his hat down angrily. “Damn it! Why can’t you bring me good news for once? Always bad news…”

“I’m sorry, sir. When I have good news, I’ll be sure to tell you, sir.”

Hawkeye groaned and his eyes widened in dismay. “An hour? That’s barely enough time to catch twenty winks, forget forty!”

“I could probably catch at least thirty-five in that time, give or take a wink or two,” Trapper replied tiredly, leaning against the wall.

“Steady, boys,” Henry advised, rubbing his eyes.

“Can I buy you a coffee, sailor?” Hawkeye asked in his usual, flirtatious voice, the voice he used in front of others to make it seem like the young surgeon was just harmlessly joking around.

It seemed safer than ever to use it now. He could flirt with Trapper and throw others off at the same time. It was dual purpose.

Trap shrugged. “Sure, but don’t think you’ll get past first base with me,” he played along with his friend.

Hawkeye led them to the mess tent, grabbing two cups of coffee before placing them at a table in the corner and sat down. He handed Trapper his cup before he took a giant sip from his own.

“I never thought I’d be drinking this coffee willingly. This coffee is fit for Leavenworth.”

Trapper took a sip of his and sighed. “I’m wiped,” he took a beat and then leaned in close to Hawkeye. “I’m sorry about earlier.”

“Keep apologizing and I’m going to start feeling bad too. Don’t worry about it, Trap. Really. War puts strain on a lot of things. Why should we be any different?”

Trapper nodded and drank his coffee in silence. “I don’t want to go back in there, Hawk. I think I opened up about a hundred bodies in there and took out eighty pounds of shrapnel. It’s too much.”

Hawkeye felt his stomach turn. He ran a hand through his hair and placed a hand on the fellow surgeon’s knee. He felt Trapper tense up a little.

“I get like that a lot. I understand where you’re coming from, and it’s not an easy place. You saved a lot of those kids, you know. Without you, they probably would’ve died.”

Trapper shook his head. “They don’t need me. They got Frank and Henry and you to save them.”

“I guess two out of three aren’t bad. You and I both know that Frank is barely a surgeon. He can barely perform spaghetti surgery, forget meatball surgery,” Hawkeye chuckled.

This got a soft chuckle and a half smile from Trapper. He finished his coffee and went back for another, also bringing a second cup to Hawkeye as well before sitting back down again.

“Thanks,” Hawkeye wrapped his hands around the warm mug.

“Don’t mention it.”

They sat in a comfortable silence before Hawkeye cleared his throat softly. “You know, just because you’re having… trouble… with the nurses, it doesn’t mean you’re automatically… homosexual. You can be like me, err…” he spoke with difficulty, failing at making this not so awkward. “Well, umm… bisexual. More than one gender…”

“You’re pullin’ my leg,” Trapper smirked, shaking his head.

“No, just… something to think about. You can still love both, like… like I do.”

Trapper looked almost skeptically at the surgeon as he sipped his coffee. “Are you sure you’re both? Bi… bisexual? I mean, how do you know you’re not just confused or… you’re not homosexual?”

Hawkeye chuckled at the thought. “Confused about what turns me on? Impossible. I know pretty damn well that area. It’s my area of expertise! Nurses turn me on, but… so do doctors, or… in this case, surgeons.” He winked at Trapper who playfully smacked Hawkeye’s arm.

“Right, got ya. Maybe the Army would make an exception in your case then.”

Hawkeye nearly laughed. “You want me to announce my sexuality to the United States Army? No, thanks. I’m not looking forward to standing in front of a firing squad.”

Trapper shrugged. “Just a thought, in case you were tired of keeping it a secret.”

“Keeping it a secret is probably what’s keeping me right here with you,” he answered truthfully, sipping the lukewarm drink. “Anyway, how are you feeling about these things? I mean… would you consider actually _being_ with me?”

“‘Being’ with you? What do ya mean? Like, going steady?”

Hawkeye cringed. “For lack of a better term, sure.”

Trapper seemed to think about this for a while, looking unsure and maybe almost fearful. He scratched his chin. “Fine, but…this has to be really secretive. No PDAs, Hawkeye. I mean it.”

Hawkeye couldn’t help the smile that was creeping on his face. He felt almost gleeful as he raised his hand. “Scout’s honor. I’m the king of secrets, but… I also don’t want you to do this because I’ve been pressuring you to. I want your heart to be in it too.”

Trapper nodded and smirked. “Don’t worry, Hawk. My heart’s in this, all right. I don’t know how good I’m going to be in this kind of relationship either. I’m usually the one who leads.”

Hawkeye finished his second cup and set it down before he searched Trapper’s worried eyes with his own confident, loving ones.

“Don’t worry, Trapper. I’ll show you the ropes. We’ll take it slow.”

McIntyre sighed when he looked up at the clock in the tent and shook his head. “Jesus, they’re almost here…”

Hawkeye placed a hand on his new boyfriend’s back. “Hey, everyone’s tired but we’re all in this together. We’ve done forty-two hours straight before. We’ll make it through this shift, Trap. This is nothing compared to that.”

“I know, but… I’m so goddamn tired. I just want to get some shut eye.”

Hawkeye watched him. “Go to sleep. Take a nap. I’ll work this shift and then we can switch off next shift.”

Trapper reluctantly shook his head. “I can’t do that to ya. You’ll be shorthanded.”

Hawkeye smirked. “Don’t worry about it. I’m getting a second wind. Go hit the sack for a few hours. I’ll wake you up like we did before and switch off.”

“Thanks, Hawk. I mean it.” Trapper stood up, Hawkeye also following his lead.

“Don’t mention it.”

The two men stood there for a while in an awkward silence, the tension between them thick before Hawkeye glanced around and pulled him in for a quick hug. He patted his back with his hand before he moved away again, smiling.

“See you later, Trap. Sweet dreams.”

He nodded and half-assed saluted him before he also smiled back tiredly. “See ya, Hawk. Good luck in there.”

Hawkeye watched his friend leave the mess tent and soon enough he heard the PA.

_“Sorry, folks! Break’s over! Back to the war!”_

Hawkeye hurried out towards Pre-Op, but even in this hell, he felt an odd warmth fill his bones as he thought about Trapper deciding to take a shot with him. Even if this ended up broken and horrible, at least they could say that they gave it a shot.

That had to count for something.


	13. Bliss In The Chaos

**.       .      .**

Hawkeye groaned tiredly as he took off his bloodied gloves and threw them in the trash bin. He leaned against the wall and closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. He had decided to continue surgery until it was done instead of having Radar go and wake up Trapper to switch off.

He was already falling asleep when he felt a gentle kick on his boot and a familiar voice.

“Hey, you wretch! You were supposed to wake me to switch.”

Hawkeye smiled at the voice but didn’t open his eyes. “I had it covered. I imagined how you might look asleep and you looked so peaceful I didn’t want to wake you.”

The other man sighed and sat down beside him, his shoulder touching the other surgeon’s. “Did everyone live?”

His voice was soft and quiet now.

Hawkeye forced himself to open his eyes to look at the other man. He rubbed them before he sighed. “Most of them. I’d say… at least 90%.”

Trapper nodded and gave Hawkeye an almost loving smile, but also looked nervous. “You did good, Hawk.”

The compliment made Pierce smile back and he slipped his hand into Trapper’s. As he expected, McIntyre tensed up but gave his hand a gentle squeeze just before the two men heard footsteps and saw Henry walk in.

Hawkeye was tired as hell but his mild panic acted as an adrenaline and he suddenly felt wide awake as he pretended to pick at something on Trapper’s hand after he turned their hands over. “Yep, I think I finally got the sliver out. No more grabbing at nurses through the shower hole.”

Blake rolled his eyes. “If you two don’t take the cake… Pierce, what are you still doing here? Go hit the hay! I don’t want to see you in the OR or this room for at least five hours.”

Hawkeye let Trapper’s hand drop now and fake saluted Henry, causing the Colonel to shake his head with a small smirk before leaving the room.

“Smooth,” Trap commented once Henry had left.

Hawkeye tiredly bowed, smirking. “Thank you, thank you. I’m here until the war ends.”

Trapper playfully smacked Hawkeye’s arm, smiling. “Get outta here. It’s my turn to play doctor.” He began to put on a surgical gown.

“More casualties came in?”

The other man shrugged. “Just a few, nothing I can’t handle.”

Hawkeye nodded and listened for voices or boots. When he didn’t hear either, he gave Trapper a cheek kiss before he forced himself to leave the room and head outside.

“My kingdom for a ride!” He shouted once he had walked out of the building.

He looked around, shielding his eyes from the evening sunset. He was about to start walking towards The Swamp when he saw a wheelchair pull up.

“Why, hello there, Bigelow. To what do I owe this pleasure?” He sat down and instantly relaxed, his back no longer feeling like his spine had been ripped open and replaced with a Slinky.

“Well, I was sort of hoping we could go somewhere alone.”

“Mmmm,” Hawkeye purred. “Alone together, my favorite type of alone. I appreciate the offer but I’m wiped. I just came off of thirty straight hours of surgery. I’d like to take a raincheck though.”

The wheelchair stopped once they made it to the Swamp and she walked in front of him. “I already have a raincheck from you, Hawkeye. I’ll do all the work. All you have to do is lay there,” she smirked.

Hawkeye couldn’t deny how tempted he was with her but he hadn’t been lying to her; he really was dead tired. He didn’t think he could perform very well considering his condition. Anyway, there was Trapper to think about. Hawkeye was never one for long term relationships but he wasn’t sure how the man would take it if he found out that his new boyfriend decided to sleep with a nurse minutes after leaving him. Trapper might rethink this whole thing and Hawkeye didn’t want to chance it.

He stood up from the wheelchair. “That’s… err…. That’s very kind of you, Bigelow but I prefer not to be a layman when it comes to love. Anyway, I wasn’t just making excuses. I really am dead on my feet.”

“I thought we had a good thing going, Hawkeye,” Bigelow almost whined.

Her disappointed tugged at his heart strings and he found himself feeling a bit guilty. He looked apologetically at her before he leaned in and kissed her lips before moving away. “You’re amazing, and… you deserve better than me, Bigelow.”

“Maybe, but I still want you.”

Pierce sighed and half chuckled. “I’m sorry to disappoint but my pillow calls to me.” He walked into the Swamp and groaned as he fell onto his cot and curled up on it.

He did feel something towards her, but he wasn’t sure if it was just lust or love. He didn’t want to lead her on if he only wanted to feel her body and he couldn’t appreciate her heart too. And then there was Trapper. He felt what he knew, without a doubt, was love. Every time he looked at the guy, he felt his heart race in his chest and he felt weak in his legs.

He never felt that way with a woman, but he did make sure to at least respect them if he didn’t love them, usually by telling them they deserved more before leaving. That didn’t mean that it never hurt him, though.

He tried to stay awake to wait for McIntyre to finish his surgeries but before he knew it, he had fallen asleep.

 

**.   .   .    .   .   .   .    .  .**

He woke up around 5 a.m. to someone lacing their fingers together with his. He instinctively squeezed his hand with a slightly rougher one and smiled to himself.

“This must be a dream,” he whispered. “Even if it is, don’t have anyone wake me. This is nice.”

“Glad you think so.”

He found himself relaxing at Trapper’s voice and opened his eyes, smiling. Then he regained his senses and looked around the tent at Frank only to see an empty cot in his place.

“He’s in the mess tent passed out in his coffee. It’s just us, finally.”

Hawkeye nearly giggled in excitement and reached over to close the blinds in the tent, only letting in slivers of light. He saw Trapper looking nervous.

“Hey, relax,” the surgeon urged softly. “Just taking precautions.”

The other man nodded now and ran a hand through his curls before he sat closer to Hawkeye, unable to stop himself from smiling softly as he stared into Hawkeye’s blue eyes.

“We can still take this slow. I’m an easy date; I’m even okay if all we do is talk,” he smirked.

Trapper chuckled and relaxed before he looked down at their intertwined hands. “I think I’d like to… make out again, if you want to, that is.”

“You’re obscenely adorable right now.”

Hawkeye leaned in and gently pressed his lips to his friend’s before letting his tongue crash again his, feeling warmth and excitement ignite from inside of him. He let Trapper lead, ready to separate at a moment’s notice. He felt Trap’s hand slip under his olive green shirt and he did the same with his hand, feeling his heart start to pound.

Trapper then placed his hands gently on Hawkeye’s face and kissed him more intimately as he pulled away slowly, gently caressing his cheeks, now out of breath.

“Jesus, what you do to me, Hawk….” He smiled, running a hand through his hair.

Hawkeye chuckled and let out a shaky breath as well. “You do the same to me. How much time do you think we have? I’d like to play some more tonsil hockey if you’re willing.”

Trapper smirked just as there was a knock at the door. “Looks like time’s up, Hawk.”

“Sirs? Are you both in there?”

The two surgeons exchanged looks with each other before Hawkeye spoke.

“Yes, Radar, we are. What is it?”

Hawkeye tried to keep his irritation out of his voice for Radar’s sake but it was difficult. These moments with Trapper seemed so rare and they had only been alone for five minutes before someone had come along and spoiled their moment. He knew it wasn’t the kid’s fault though; he knew not what he did.

“Umm… sorry to interrupt, sirs, but a casualty came in and he needs both of you. The Colonel and Majors Burns and Hullihan are going to be going off duty for the next few hours.”

Trapper sighed. “Are you kidding? I just came off the last shift!”

“I know, Trapper. Sorry but he really needs you guys.”

Trapper waited until he heard footsteps walk away and waited a minute before he grabbed his pillow and slammed it down on the cot. “Damn it!”

Pierce looked at him with sympathy before he stood up and held out a hand to help Trapper up as well. His friend reluctantly grabbed it before he forced himself on his feet.

“Does it ever end?”

Hawkeye searched his face. “One day it will, Trap. Promise.”

Trapper took a deep breath and let it out before he nodded and let his boyfriend lead him back towards Pre-Op.


	14. Out of Sight, Out of Mind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ....

**.        .      .**

“Damn it! Some help over here, please!”

Hawkeye looked up quickly before looking back down, recognizing Trapper’s urgent voice. He tried to quickly, and accurately, stitch up his patient. “You all right, Trap?”

“No… this guy won’t stop bleeding and I’ve taken out all the shrapnel in his belly! I don’t know what else to do for him…”

“I can finish this up, Hawkeye,” Nurse Kelly urged him kindly before nodding over to the other man. “Go ahead.”

“Thanks, Kelly,” Pierce hurried over to Trapper who made room for him.

He peered over his patient and saw a nick in the small intestine that was causing most of the bleeding. Hawkeye quickly started to sew up the hole. “You missed this hole, Trapper…”

“What? N-No… no, it wasn’t there before…” The man’s voice sounded panicked and distant, tired.

Hawkeye felt his adrenaline kicking in as he stitched up the young soldier. He glanced back at Trapper worriedly before he looked over at Maxwell. “Klinger! Have him lay down in Pre-Op for a while. He needs some sleep!”

“Right-o!” Klinger placed a hand on Trapper’s back. “Right this way, sir. No wait.”

“No, I can… I can still help some more kids. Bring the next one in!” He ordered, fighting the Corporal’s guiding.  “Come on!”

“Pierce!” Colonel Blake shouted in half worry, half frustration. “Will you get him out before he knocks the patients off the table, please?”

Hawkeye wrapped his arm around his friend’s shoulders and gently guided him into Pre-Op over to a free bed. He grabbed a nearby syringe filled with sedative and pushed it into Trapper’s arm quickly before he could comprehend what had happened.

“Hawk…. No, I… I can’t sleep. Too busy…”

The young doctor looked sadly at Trapper and gently caressed his hair. “Don’t worry, Trap. I can do it. Just get some sleep, okay, pal?”

Trapper relaxed as the sedative took effect. Hawkeye glanced around before he planted a soft kiss on McIntyre’s forehead and hurried out of the room, back into OR again to continue working.

Hawkeye did surgery after surgery for the next seven hours, convinced he was working solely on adrenaline. Once he had managed to somehow save the last patient, he made a beeline for the scrub room to change back into khaki colors.

As he washed his hands, he watched red disappear down the drain and sighed heavily when he felt small arms wrap around him. He straightened and turned around, unsurprised to see Nurse Bigelow. “You don’t take no for an answer, do you?” He observed, trying to smile weakly.

She looked slyly up at him and shook her head. “Nope. Maybe I just miss you.”

“I hate to say it, Bigelow, but I think you may actually have to start looking elsewhere for your needs.”

She let go of him, looking abashed and embarrassed.

“Who is she, then?”

Hawkeye ran his hands through his hair. “I’m sorry? Who’s who?”

“The girl you love so much, obviously, Hawkeye,” she persisted. “I don’t know what else could have possibly gotten into you! You have never been so faithful to someone. She must be real special.”

He chuckled now, mostly out of exhaustion. “You’re jealous?”

“Of course not! I just want to know who she is. She’s got you all starry-eyed.”

Hawkeye took off his surgical gown and pants and put his regular army clothes back on. “No girl could replace you, Bigelow. Maybe I’m just tired! I’ve been performing nonstop surgery for what feels like ten years.”

“Well when you figure out what it is, promise you’ll come back to me. I miss our late night surgical meetings.”

Hawkeye sighed and nodded. “Will do.” He waited until she left and was about to leave when he saw Radar walk in almost shyly.

“Sir? Trapper’s awake and wants to talk to you.”

His heart swelled in his chest. “Willing to bet he’s not in the best of moods right now…”

“Sounds like a fair bet, Hawk.”

Pierce walked past him and into Pre-Op again, over to where Trapper was awake and holding his head. He sat down on the bed beside him. “Hey, what’s wrong? Headache?”

“Ughh… yeah, I’m guessing you either operated on me or gave me a sedative, though.”

Hawkeye smirked, shrugging. “If you’re smart, you’ll pick number two. You were cranky and exhausted so I had to put you down for a few hours. I’m sorry, Trap.”

The other surgeon sighed and rubbed his eyes before he glanced around. “What time is it?”

“Around 1 a.m. Do you want me to help you to the Swamp?”

Trapper shook his head as he slowly sat up.

“No… let’s get a drink.”

“Trapper,” Hawkeye spoke with soft warning in his voice. “I think what you need is sleep. We can save the impending disaster and drink at home.”

Trapper shook his head, his eyes looking far away. “I don’t want to be around here anymore.”

Pierce felt his chest ache and placed a gentle hand on his friend’s shoulder, squeezing it affectionately. “Careful with that talk; you’ll have the MP’s looking for you,” he tried to joke.

This wasn’t the first time Trapper had talked about going AWOL. Hawkeye knew he had to take it seriously but he didn’t want to think about what life would be like without Trapper around here. He had to joke about it or else it would become Real, and he couldn’t have that, because then he’d have to deal with it.

“I’m serious, Hawk. I can’t do this…”

Hawkeye felt his breathing quicken. “D-Do what, Trap?”

“This…” Trapper waved around the room. “I don’t know. I… I love you,” he brought his voice down to a whisper. “But everything is too much. All the surgeries… nearly getting caught… all the blood and wounded kids… it’s… it’s too much, Hawkeye.”

Trapper wasn’t talking anymore about going AWOL. This was something else, something much worse. This was talk about not being alive anymore, period, and it scared Hawkeye to death. The thought of no more Trapper McIntyre around was more than the surgeon could bear.

“N-No… that’s just… that’s just the exhaustion talking. Come on, Trap, let’s go get a nightcap and get some sleep.”

“I’m not tired,” Trapper stood up and walked out of the building before he started towards the Swamp.

A terrifying thought entered Hawkeye’s mind now; if Trapper was feeling suicidal right now, he might have the will to actually go through with it. If he tried to and Frank saw, Trapper would get a section 8 and he’d be out of here, leaving Hawkeye alone.

“Trapper!” He called for him but quickened his pace when he saw his friend enter the Swamp before him. His blood turned to ice in his veins now and he ran over to the tent quickly just in time to see Trapper grab Frank’s gun.

“No!” Hawkeye glanced around but didn’t see Frank anywhere; he must be sleeping in Margaret’s quarters. “Trap! Please don’t… please.”

Trapper looked at him, the gun aimed at his own head, an empty look in his eyes. “I-I couldn’t save that kid back in OR! I… I thought I got everything…”

Hawkeye put his hands up before he tried to get closer to Trapper, but the other man cocked the gun, which stopped Pierce in his tracks.

“I saved him, Trapper! I saved him… he didn’t die! You’re not the first person to miss something like that, I promise. You know I’ve missed things like that before! The kid is doing okay now. He’s stable. Please, put the damn gun down, Trap!”

“I-It’s not just the kid, Hawk! It’s… it’s everything…” He sighed, shakily, tears forming in his eyes and quickly running down his cheeks.  “E-Everything.”

Hawkeye watched him, feeling terrified all around. He swallowed hard. “L-Let’s talk about it. Let’s talk about everything. We can do that, right? I’m always here for you. Let’s just have a drink and we can talk about it…”

Trapper held the gun firmly in his hands. When his depressed eyes fell on Hawkeye again,  

“I don’t want to talk anymore, Hawk… I’m… sick of talking. T-This war is fucking miserable, and… I-I miss Louise, and I miss my daughters… I don’t even care if they don’t want me around anymore. I miss them a-and… everything is horrible here. I just want to go h-home!”

Hawkeye felt his heart break when he heard his friend’s voice crack in pain. He felt hot tears in his own eyes but didn’t let them fall yet. “You’ll go home in a casket, Trap. Is that how you want to get your ticket home? You want y-your wife and kids to see their father dead when he comes home?”

This seemed to make Trapper pause, so Hawkeye continued to talk.

“I-It’s better that they see you alive. We can call up Sigmund and have him make a house call. He can help you. All of this will be over with one day. R-Remember? I promised you that earlier… I meant it. This i-isn’t the end for you, or me, or any of us. This is just our beginning.”

Trapper took a shaky breath and put the gun back under Frank’s bed before he put his face in his hands, starting to sob quietly. Hawkeye went over to him and wrapped his arms around him, feeling grateful when he embraced him as well.

He held him tightly, gently caressing his body before he kissed his forehead. “Please don’t leave me here alone, Trapper…” he whispered pleadingly.

“… And leave you here a-alone with F-Frank? I… wouldn’t dream of it, Hawk.”

Hawkeye could tell that Trapper was trying to lighten up the situation to forget how awful it really was, a tactic out of Pierce’s book. He gave a small chuckle anyway and breathed in the other man.

“This is serious…”

“I know. I know,” McIntyre sniffed and took another shaky breath before he straightened up again. “Is it messed up that I d-don’t want to get Section 8’d to go home? T-That I’d rather stay here with you?”

Hawkeye chuckled now, wiping away a stray year. “A little, yeah. I want you to stay too, Trapper.”

“I ain’t going anywhere,” he promised. “I don’t… know why I d-did that. I guess… this place got to me.” He moved over to his bed and started to pour himself a martini and drank it quickly before pouring himself another one.

“It gets to everyone.” He watched him with sad eyes and stood up when he saw Frank walking towards the Swamp. He glanced over at Trapper. “Promise me you won’t do that again.”

The other man looked almost taken aback but nodded.

“Good, Frank’s coming. I’m just going to go talk to Radar real quick and then I’ll be back.”

“Do what you gotta do. I’ll still be here.”

Frank walked in and looked at the two men before he gave them a suspicious glare. “I know what you two are up to and you’re not getting away with it!”

“Getting away with what, Frank?”

“You know!” Frank insisted before he climbed into his cot.

“Oh, right… well, you caught us, Frank.” Hawkeye smirked and then left the Swamp, feeling more tired than he had ever been before. He walked to where Radar was sleeping near Colonel Blake’s office and wasn’t surprised to see him sleeping with his teddy bear.

“Radar… hey, Radar!” He spoked in a hushed whisper. When the Corporal shot upright and fumbled with his glasses, Hawkeye gently placed a hand on his arm. “Hey, come on. Get up. This is an emergency.”

Radar yawned but nodded, letting Hawkeye move him over to his desk.

“I need you to get in touch with Freedman and tell him we need him here PDQ.”

“For who, sir?”

Hawkeye rubbed his temple before he searched Radar’s face. “I need him to check out Trapper, but… if anyone else asks, just tell them that he’s doing random psych checks.”

Radar’s eyes became glazed over with worry but he nodded, writing Hawkeye’s message down. “Right, got it, Hawk.”

“Good. Thanks, Radar. Sorry to wake you up…”

The Corporal shook his head dismissively before he shrugged. “The war doesn’t stop just ‘cause it gets dark.”


	15. Love Me Do

**.             .             .**

 

Hawkeye knew he shouldn’t be, but he let himself rubberneck outside of The Swamp where he knew Dr. Freedman and Trapper were talking inside. If he was being honest with himself, it was because he was concerned for his friend (and boyfriend?) more than he was nosy.

He leaned against the door quietly and listened in.

“So who was it, Sidney?” Trapper asked resentfully.

“Sorry? Who was what?”

“Who was the rat that got Radar to call for you?” his bunkmate explained sourly.

“I’m sure whoever it was had your best interests at heart.”

Good ol’ Sidney Freeman; never one to rat out a rat.

“Lemme guess. You’re here because I tried to… to permanently leave the war.”

“I’m here because I want to help you get past this, if I can. Now, can you explain to me why you wanted to end your life, Trapper?”

Hawkeye listened closely, trying not to look like he was spying on his best friend. He made sure he was hidden from sight should either of them decide to look out.

There was a long pause from Trapper’s end but he heard the man sigh heavily. “I don’t know. Seems to me the easiest way out of this war is by eating a bullet.”

“That’s some serious talk, Trapper. Are you still feeling suicidal, then?”

“If I said I was, would you have to Section 8 me and send me home?”

“Is that what you want to happen?”

Another long pause.

“My wife is divorcing me. Says I’m gone too much, which makes sense since… you know, the war. Says when I come back, I’ll only get to see my daughters on weekends. On top of that –“ Trapper stopped himself short, taking a sharp breath before clearing his throat nervously.

Hawkeye found himself holding his own breath now.

“Whatever you tell me stays between the two of us.  You have my word, Trapper. It’s doctor/patient confidentiality.”

“Err… I-I’m in love with someone I shouldn’t be in love with.”

Hawkeye felt his heart stop in his chest now. _Oh god, he was going to tell him everything. This was it; the end of both of them._

“Oh yeah? Well, I can’t stay I’m surprised. It seems natural and amazingly uncommon in a war zone. Do you care to elaborate?”

“I-It’s someone who’s a good friend to me. Known him awhile since I’ve been here… and… I can’t. I can’t love him anymore. It’s w-wrong. I’m not… like that normally.”

Hawkeye wished he hadn’t been listening at the door anymore. He felt sick to his stomach, knowing that Trapper felt like it was wrong to love him, like being bisexual was an oddity. As much as he knew he needed to walk away right now, he needed to hear Sidney’s questions and answers so he planted himself.

“So… you love another man but you believe it’s wrong, and you don’t normally go around kissing other men. Am I correct?”

Trapper scoffed. “Isn’t it wrong, doc? That’s what everyone else says. The Army doesn’t think it’s very GI to fraternize with other men. They frown upon it, so much so, that they can court martial you or have you dishonorably discharged.”

It was the doctor’s turn to become quiet, but Hawkeye assumed he had stopped writing and was thinking.

“I know very well what this man’s Army thinks about homosexuality. I’ve been around these M*A*S*H units and have seen and heard just about everything. That doesn’t mean I necessarily agree with the Army’s opinions about fraternizing and homosexuality. I’ve kept my personal opinions to myself for the most part, however, I believe that you simply cannot help who you have feelings for, or who you care very deeply about. I believe it’s the same brain chemistry that makes up heterosexuality that also makes up homosexuality, or even bisexuality, dare I say it,” Sidney explained, no longer writing anything down.

“Well, then you’re the first besides…” Trapper became quiet once again.

“Let me guess, the gentleman caller goes by a character from The Last of the Mohicans.”

Hawkeye tensed outside.

“Yeah… yeah, it’s Hawkeye. I just… I feel a lot for him, and as much as I hate this stinkin’ war, I don’t want to leave Korea without him. I… I love him, Sidney.”

Benjamin Pierce relaxed now, letting out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. He couldn’t help but smile to himself.

“If you love him, and he feels the same for you, then I see no real problem here. If you don’t  want to leave here without him, then don’t leave, Trapper. Stick around, do what you need to do to be happy. I suggest you communicate a bit more with him, though. We wouldn’t want another episode like last night to happen again.”

Trapper seemed surprised. “You’re not going to send me home? Give me a Section 8? I held a gun to my head last night…”

“It’s my professional opinion that you just needed to talk to someone about this, Captain. I don’t feel like you’re a danger to yourself unless you say it yourself. I’ll come back in a couple weeks and check on you, but I believe you’re not going to attempt suicide again.”

“Good, because I don’t feel that way anymore. Hawk just… panicked and jumped the gun.”

Sidney chuckled lightly. “No pun intended?”

Now Trapper chuckled as well and Hawkeye heard the creaking of the chair Sidney was sitting in and moved away from the door quickly. He started whistling lightheartedly and pretended to see something interesting up in the sky as Sidney left the Swamp before heading for the Mess Tent.

Hawkeye waited a couple seconds before he walked into the Swamp, sitting down on his bed.

“So how did your session go?”

Trapper scoffed playfully. “I wouldn’t have even had to have a session if it hadn’t been for your itchy finger and Radar’s ability to cave at will.”

“I was just worried about you, Trap. That’s all,” Hawkeye shrugged.

Trapper nodded and sighed. “Yeah, I know. Well, good news is that we got lucky, and he’s not going to tell anyone else about us, and also I’m not going to have to go home or get arrested.”

Hawkeye pretended that he hadn’t already heard his conversation earlier and feigned relief. “Oh, wow. Yeah, that’s great. Great news.”

“So… I was thinkin’, we… we could continue this. Us, if you want.”

“Is it what you want? I don’t want you to feel trapped, Trap.” Hawkeye moved over and sat down beside him.

The other man nodded, smirking slightly. “Yeah. Yeah, it is. I feel… good with you, safe. I know it’s a stupid thing to say, but… it’s true.”

Hawkeye felt his heart swell inside of him. “Good. I’m glad, I want you to feel safe with me,” he smiled and gently nudged him with his arm. “I want you to always be that with me, Trapper… truthful, even if it might hurt me. You don’t need to keep anything to yourself. You can trust me to keep it between the two of us.”

Trapper looked at him and smiled a genuine, loving smile, before he playfully nudged him back. He glanced around and he laced his fingers with Pierce’s before he gently thumbed his hand. Hawkeye smiled back, doing the same with Trapper’s own hand.

He relaxed, feeling good as he felt his friend’s slightly callused skin under his own. Trapper felt strong, a lot stronger than Hawkeye felt.

When they heard footsteps, both men instinctively retracted their hands and stood up, pretending to get dressed in their Army fatigues after hours of lounging around in their robes.

“Sorry, sirs. Mass casualties are expected to arrive in ten minutes…” Radar’s voice rang out in the Swamp.

“Right-o. Thanks, Radar.”

The young Corporal nodded and smiled, sympathy written in his eyes before disappearing again.

“God, I hate this place. I can’t wait until we get our invitations to back home. It feels like it’s never going to end,” Hawkeye spoke, his voice low and soft, filled with sadness.

Trapper pulled a grey shirt over his head and pulled it down before tucking it into his pants. “It’ll happen one day, Hawk. They can’t hold us hostage here forever. One day, we’ll go home together, maybe… find a place, get jobs in the same practice, and laugh about all the pranks we pulled over here on Margaret and Frank.”

Hawkeye finished getting dressed and sighed. “That day can’t come soon enough for me.”

“Me either. C’mon, Hawkeye, we got kids to save.”

“Right. Ours is not to reason why.”


End file.
